Wolf Curves (6 page)

"He let you out of bed, I see."

Heart sinking, Leah nodded. While there might be untold uses for the flower and silver thread, there was only one reason for Esme to make sure Leah didn't see them.

Esme was a latent. A latent in love with a shifter, with the two of them usually at one another's throat.

Something sharp twisted inside Leah's chest. She'd already been rejected by people she loved -- her mother and her grandmother. And then she had lost Amanda. She wouldn't go through that again. Looking back through the screen door and the hallway, Leah mourned what could never be.

Esme stood and walked toward her, her smile strengthening. "So you've worked things out."

Leah shook her head. "I thought so, but…"

She forced herself not to gesture at Esme, at the spot where the witch's lace rested against her breast or the silver thread worked through the seam of her clothes. She wouldn't tell the witch she knew the truth. She'd let Esme share her secret once she trusted Leah enough.

"I made a mistake." She fiddled with the uncharmed hem of her blouse, her voice a soft whisper of uncertainty.

When Esme put her hand on Leah's shoulder, she looked up to find the witch's face filled with regret. Esme gave her a gentle squeeze. "Are you sure, honey?"

Moving into the witch's comforting embrace, Leah nodded. "Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

*****

Seth didn't leave without a fight, but all the words exchanged were between him and Esme. Esme cautioned patience, which might have calmed him had Leah not also insisted on his removing any extra guards from around the witch's house. In the end, he capitulated to the request for time and space -- from him.

He would not yield when it came to guards. Betas from three different packs rotated through three shifts a day, their post maintained at the far end of Esme's long drive. That lasted a week and would have gone on until reports of other latents started trickling in.

The pattern followed Leah's discovery, shifters from other clans drawn to nearby towns with reports of Hunters in the area. By the end of the first week, three new latents had been discovered. With the clan leaders realizing that the Hunters were targeting these women as part of their crusade to make shifters extinct, resources were re-allocated.

The guards were pulled, the clan's alpha deeming Esme's charms to cloak Leah's nature and the location of her house deep within their territory sufficient to keep Leah protected. The absence of the men from the other packs didn't mean the two women went unwatched. Sitting on the long porch around the table with Esme teaching Leah the art of witchcraft or reading together in the rocking chairs, one or the other of the women would raise her head and stare out at the tree line as she sensed her mate. Leah never remarked when Esme scanned the area for Dana -- the witch still thought her secret was intact.

On the second week, Leah met Gordon, the only male human in the clan. Esme had been kind when she said he looked as old as Moses. She'd been kind in calling him a healer, too. Able only to attract scraps of magic, Gordon was mostly an herbalist. Only one week into her training and Leah could have run circles around him if she'd been so impolite. Instead, she fumbled when he was around, letting him teach her spells she'd already mastered.

Ready for another hour of fooling the old man, she watched Gordon pull to a stop in front of Esme's porch. His driving no better than his witchcraft, Esme had spelled the house to make sure he stopped before he could collapse the porch a second time.

Instead of getting out of the vehicle, Gordon blared his horn.

"What on earth, Gordon?" Esme stepped off the porch and approached his car. He whispered something in her ear. Esme straightened and started to return to the house, but he grabbed her wrist with one bony, gnarled hand.

"I've got all the supplies we need, there's no time!"

Leah approached the porch railing. "What's going on?"

"One of the team's found another latent, near your apartment building." Esme looked at the front door, started to move toward it again, but Gordon would not release her arm.

"She's injured." He wheezed when he spoke. "They can't move her and it's bad, too bad for me to heal her."

"I need my phone." Esme twisted her wrist, freeing herself from the old man's grip.

"We'll use mine. The girl could die."

"Fine!" Esme spun back toward the vehicle, her hands flapping for Gordon to move over. "Then we don't have any time for you to drive, move."

Leah took a step off the porch. "Should I come? I can help you."

"No, Seth would have my head if I took you off clan land." She shook her head, the strength of her dismissal setting her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. "Too risky. Even charmed, that many latents would be like sending up a flare. The Hunters would pinpoint us immediately."

"Aye-aye, cap'n. I'll hold the fort down." Leah offered a perky salute, hoping to ease Esme's worry about leaving her alone.

The witch frowned, the furrowed line in her forehead deepening. "Stay inside, doors locked, promise me."

Gordon nodded. "Best do as she says, child. I'll text Seth and let him know you're out here alone."

Faking a smile, Leah thanked the old man. He still hadn't caught on that the last shifter she wanted to see was Seth. Even thinking about him hurt. The times he'd waited just beyond sight, guarding her without her permission, had been pure torture. She'd felt his restlessness, his need. Whatever emotion he felt magnified inside her, each day harder to bear without him than the day before.

Watching the car disappear down the long drive, Leah went inside and locked the doors.

*****

At dusk, Gordon's car returned with just the old man inside it. Seeing the vehicle make solid contact with the porch, Leah's stomach tightened. Some spells didn't last beyond the witch who had cast them. The sentry spell on the porch was one of them.

She ran outside and threw open the car door. "Where is she!"

Gordon shook his head. "She's alive, but hurt bad. Camille is on her way, but--"

Leah knew Camille was visiting another clan, the trip at least half a day by car.

"Take me to her!" Leah ran around the back of the vehicle and hopped in the front passenger seat. "There's got to be something I can do until Camille reaches her."

"Seth--"

"I don't give a damn what Seth says!" She hit the car's dash, blue waves of energy rippling out from the point of impact. "Take me to her now, Gordon."

His mouth set in a grim line, he put the car in reverse. Realizing she should have made the old man let her drive, she told him to pull over.

The car picked up speed. "It's not far from the clan's land," he argued. "I know these old roads better than you, girl. Watched 'em built as a boy."

Leah stopped arguing and willed the vehicle to go faster. The car seemed to respond, Gordon whipping around the curving country lanes like he was a young man running moonshine. He laughed once, the oddly joyous sound strange falling from his ancient lips.

The car skidded to a stop next to an overlook on the road. Parked next to them, one of the shiny black van's the clan used idled with the side door open. A blanket covered a woman's body, dark blonde hair spilling onto the van floor from beneath one edge. Leah unhooked her seat belt and bounded straight into the van.

She touched the figure, realized her mistake in trusting the old man a second too late as strong hands grabbed her by the arms and someone slapped duct tape over her mouth. The tape was followed by a hood cinched tight at the throat.

"Now I have a witch and a latent."

The smooth, unaccented voice sent a chill down Leah's spine. The chill turned to a frozen dagger stabbing straight into her heart as the van shifted into gear and he spoke again.

"I can't wait to kill them."

*****

Leah woke to the sounds of torture. Duct tape sealed her mouth, but the hood had been removed. She slitted her gaze, hoping her captors would continue to think her unconscious after they had choked her in the van.

Her eyes landed first on Esme and it took every last scrap of willpower Leah had not to cry out at the sight of her battered friend. Bruises blotted her face, the skin over the right cheekbone split from a blow, the eye above it swollen. A wet rag filled her mouth, the sides of her face red from where the tape had been roughly removed.

Someone had stripped Esme down to her bra and panties. More scratches and bruises marred her pale flesh. Her arms were stretched out, held by two men. Three of her fingers bent back at an angle that was impossible unless they were broken.

"I like to brand my witches before I kill them." The voice belonged to the man from the van. "Let's the devil know who sent them."

Leah looked scanned the length of Esme's body to find him standing near her feet. He held an acetylene torch to the end of a small branding iron, the head an elaborate
Q
glowing orange from the flame's heat. He moved, his back half turned to Leah as he ran his hand over Esme's thighs in search of the perfect spot. White bolts of static crackled in the gap of air.

"Jesu," he laughed, raising his hand and watching the size of the bolts increase. "I've never drained a witch as powerful as you. I'll be a fucking god for a few days with your juice in me."

"You'll give me the latent's power?"

Leah recognized the last voice. She didn't need to risk looking at the figure in the dark corner to know that the whine belonged to Gordon.

"I told you I would, old man." Stepping closer to Esme's head, the man toyed with the cloth in her mouth, pulling it almost out, pushing it back in, then giving it another pull. "Bet you wish you could talk right now."

Esme's gaze narrowed. Leah knew if looks could kill, their host would be dead on the floor. Lucky for him, spells required speech. Laughing again, he looked at the
Q.

"Damn thing's cooled. Can't have you half branded." He nodded at the men holding Esme's arms. "Keep her still."

Re-lighting the torch, he gestured at Esme's full hips. "You think it's her size giving her all that power."

Gordon responded with a phlegmy grunt and a lift of his frail shoulders. "Her mother's a skinny enough bitch."

"Still." The man inclined his head in Leah's direction without looking at her. "This one has quite a lot of juice, too. The two of them together…"

An excited shiver coursed through him.

"Leah's mine," Gordon reminded him.

"Hah, of course." The brand's tip glowing orange once again, the man returned his attention to Esme. "As I promised, you'll get yours."

The witch's fierce gaze had remained on him. Showing no sign of fear or the incredible pain she must feel, Esme watched him bring his arm up in an arc, taunting her with the inevitable searing touch of the brand. He brought the iron down quickly, his attention focused on the outside of one plump thigh as his target.

Leah closed her eyes tight. The agonized scream piercing the air shocked them open. It wasn't the scream of a bound and gagged woman. A man had made that sound.

Esme's tormenter screamed again, the
Q
embedded against his hip, the smell of his burning flesh filling the air. His arm flailed violently, pulling the iron free with a wild jerk. The
Q
, still hot, hit the man holding Esme's right arm straight in the cheek.

Realizing the ensuing chaos might be her only chance to save herself and Esme, Leah wiggled until her hip was against the edge of the table they had placed her on, her legs coiled tight to her body. Taking aim, she kicked the ring leader, hitting him with both feet against the side of his knee. He buckled for a second, losing his grip on the iron. Rising back onto his feet, he spun in her direction, murder in his eyes.

Leah had a momentary awareness of Esme pulling the rag from her mouth. The two men that had held her were fighting to clamp a hand against her lips as Gordon fumbled through a spell.

Concentrating on her own attacker, Leah took aim at his crotch and kicked.

Sneering, he caught Leah's feet before she could turn his balls into clam chowder. "Your sister didn't fight half as hard."

She froze, her eyes locked on his. From behind him, she heard the impact of bone on bone. Forgetting Amanda, Leah's gaze jumped to the side just in time to see Esme's head snap back. Laughing, Leah's attacker drew a long-bladed knife from the back of his pants.

Leah's lips parted, but no sound came out. The terrified scream that had been building died in her throat, choked off by a familiar sense of safety. Her head jerked right to stare at the wall.

"Wolves!" Gordon warned. "They've found us, Quentin!"

Spinning, Quentin snarled and buried the blade in the throat of the nearest of the two men that had attacked Esme. Across from him, the other man buried his own knife in Gordon's throat.

Bending down, Quentin snatched a gun from the dead man's boot. From the other side of Esme's inert body, his last living helper smirked as Gordon folded to the ground. The smile was short lived. Quentin fired two shots. The first put a hole through the final man's head. The other took out the only light in the room.

Leah heard the sound of something heavy being dragged along the floor, hinges creaking and the hard thud of wood hitting wood. From the wall to her right, metal clanked. A second later, the wall was in pieces, two high-beam headlights illuminating the dust-clogged air.

It took another second before she realized not all of the bodies near the vehicle were human. A shifter stepped into the light, his frame too big for her to believe she knew him. But she recognized his scent, the warm drip of caramel subduing the pure terror clawing at her mind.

The shifter contorted as he moved, bones popping and snapping, his size diminishing until it was clearly Seth standing in front of her, as naked as the night he had taken her in Esme's house.

Seth's arms were around her in an instant, crushing her against his chest. "Leah, say something, baby."

"Esme…"

A low, howling whine drew her gaze to where her friend sagged in the arms of another shifter. The high-beams bounced off red-gold fur. The strangled cries coming from Dana's throat reminded Leah of a dog she had seen run over. It had taken ten minutes to reach the vet's office, which had been about three minutes too long.