Witch Wolf Read online

  “You targeted Carver,” I said. “You tried to make him your fall guy, tried to make it look like he had lost control of his beast and killed that woman.”

  “Brava,” he said. “He is also the pack’s gamma.”

  “What sense does that make?” I asked. “Your sister is the pack’s alpha. Speaking of which, does she know about this, Lukas?”

  “Why do you want to know, Kassandra?”

  I smiled, blindfolded and bound to a chair, seeing very little escape, and despite myself—I couldn’t help it. “I like to know who to kill.” The beast woke from her sleeping den somewhere deep inside me, spilling out of my mouth in a guttural growl.

  Lukas Morris smacked me across the face, hard enough that he almost knocked me out of the chair. He caught the edge of it and set me upright.

  “No shifting,” he said, “not yet.”

  I spat the words, “Fuck you.”

  He slapped me again and my eyes rolled into the back of my head.

  If he fucking hit me one more time… I forced myself to count to ten.

  I decided to talk. “So, Carver would’ve been your fall guy?” I asked.

  “Would’ve been?” he scoffed. “He will be. In fact, thanks to you, the police will more than likely conclude he’s their prime suspect.”

  I closed my eyes. He was right. The last person I had mentioned to the police was Carver. Shit. Shit. Shit. If I made it out alive, I owed Carver a huge apology.

  “Carver is your fall guy,” I whispered, “and Rosalin’s brother?” I asked, knowing that he was somewhere in the room. I could smell his fear if I focused on it, but fear was too tempting to the wolf, and I wouldn’t risk shifting, not yet.

  “Think of it as leverage,” Lukas said, thoughtfully.

  “Leverage?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “It’s enough leverage to get Rosalin out of my way, don’t you think? The life of her brother for her title in pack,” he mused with a smile in his tone.

  Sick bastard.

  “Why didn’t you just challenge them?” I asked. “That’s what you’re after, isn’t it? You’re trying to work your way up the pack ladder.”

  Lukas was suddenly so close I could smell the spearmint gum he was chewing. I’d never like spearmint again.

  “How would you know anything about the pack structure? Did Rosalin tell you?” he asked, an ugly happiness in his tone.

  When I didn’t answer, his fingers wrapped around my throat, pushing me back into the chair and threatening to crush my windpipe.

  “It had to be her,” he said, giving me a shake.

  I hissed in through my teeth as the pain in my head and ribs soared again. He let me go so abruptly that my body swung forward. I heard him take a step back.

  “Yes,” he said, “I will tell you something that you did not know.My dear, dear sister extracted a promise from me before I joined up with her pack,” he said. “We were changed at the same time, did you know that?”

  I blinked behind the blindfold, trying to keep up. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Oh yes,” he said, “our uncle liked to do things to us. One day, well…” He laughed. “One day when we were little, things got a little out of hand, if you know what I mean.”

  I shuddered to think on it. No wonder they both had issues. It made me feel a small sense of pity, but not much. Ultimately, I’m a firm believer that people choose who they want to be.

  “What was the promise?” I asked, focusing on the important part and not his life story. Point for me.

  “Did Rosalin tell you what the Rite of Challenge is?”

  “I know what it is,” I said, avoiding bringing Rosalin into it.

  “I had to give my oath that I would not throw the Rite of Challenge at any of her pretty little wolves.”

  “You don’t think you’re going back on your oath, just a little?” I asked.

  “Oh, no,” he said, “I’m sure I’m not. You see, I haven’t challenged anyone.”

  “You’re going to use Rosalin’s brother to get her to step down in the pack hierarchy. That way, you’re not breaking your oath to Sheila.”

  “Brava again, Kassandra.” He chuckled softly. “If there is one thing you should know about the Lykos, it is that we are not oath breakers.”

  That might’ve been true, but some of them were certainly whack-jobs.

  Henry chose that moment to scream. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself! You monster!”

  I turned my head, following Lukas’s fast and heavy steps across the wooden planks of the floor. I heard Henry give a small cry of pain. Lukas laughed.

  “Lukas,” I said coldly. “If he’s dead, he’s not leverage. Remember?”

  Henry’s body hit the floor with a heavy thump. He whimpered.

  “So weak and pathetic,” Lukas growled. “You can’t do anything, human.”

  I bit my tongue. I didn’t think Lukas would like me to point out the fact that he was part human. Another thought crossed my mind.

  “James?” I asked.

  He came back over to kneel in front of me. “It’s my middle name,” he said. “How is Claire doing? That was you, in the park.” He made it a statement so I didn’t say anything. He reached out, touching my hair. I turned away from him. “That white streak gives you away, Kassandra. Did you know that once every alpha werewolf was born with a streak in their hair that reflected the color of their beast’s fur?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, but I remembered Lenorre’s comment about the mark of a true alpha.

  “Once,” Lukas said, “there were those that were born Lykos. Those destined to rule a pack as their leader were born with something that marked them as Lykos. The white in your hair,” he said, “is the same color as your fur. That is your mark.”

  “I wasn’t born like this,” I hissed.

  He sounded amused. “No?” he said, “Then it would seem the virus itself has taken a turn. Do you know that the virus was passed down by those true Lykos? It all began with King Lycaon,” he said, “who tried to serve the god Zeus human flesh. But gods do not fall for tricks, do they?” he asked. “No,” he answered his own question. “So, Zeus cursed Lycaon, turning him into one of the Lykos, so that he might feast upon the human flesh he revered so much as to try and feed it to the god.”

  “You’re a sick fuck,” I said and Lukas gave a deep rumbling peal of laughter.

  “We are what we are, Kassandra.” I heard him hit his chest with his fist. “I am Lykos!” His voice boomed through whatever prison held me and my skin crawled.

  “What about Sheila?” I asked in a quiet but steady voice. “The police take out Carver,” I said, “you get Rosalin to step down,” I exhaled, “but what about your sister, Lukas? What about your alpha?”

  “I will be alpha,” he said.

  The wolf growled against the inside of my mind, but what she thought was not human words. No, it was my thoughts that translated what the beast inside me felt, and what she felt was: No. No, Lukas Morris would not be alpha. He would never be alpha.

  A lonesome howl rang in my ears. Lukas rushed to his feet in a hiss of movement. “What was that?” he said and his footfalls were quick, too quick. Another howl echoed like a blade through the sudden silence, sending chills up my spine, sending a rush of adrenaline through my veins. I tried to break the binds again, and couldn’t. Why couldn’t I break them?

  Lukas cursed as something heavy and solid hit the door.

  I could hear them growling. There was another loud thud, loud enough to shake the building around us.

  A lone wolf howled her distress call. I felt the beast stir in the pit of my stomach and opened my mouth. The call spilled from my lips, pouring from my heart in an inhuman wolf song.

  The house shuddered again.

  Lukas rushed back and hit me. “Do not sing to them, wolf!” he yelled.

  My beast didn’t like that. Behind the blindfold I sensed my eyes bleeding gold and opened my mouth, growling. This time, w
hen he swung, I threw my body to the left. The chair and I clattered to the floor. A surge of mind-numbing pain sailed through my ribs again. I tried to beak the binds at my ankles, breathing shallowly around the pain. Why the fuck couldn’t I break through the leather? The door collapsed in a violent sound, hinges screeched an unnerving whine a moment before the wood hit the floor with a sound like heavy thunder.

  In the din of it all, I heard Lukas shifting, heard his clothes tearing and the bones of his body popping wet and juicy.

  There were snarls like some obnoxious dog fight. Someone touched me and I flinched. “Kassandra.” It was Lenorre’s voice.

  She lifted the blindfold from my eyes and the room came into view like a black-and-white movie. It was night and there were no lights on. She began untying the leather straps at my ankles, fingers moving deftly at the knots. My legs were free. She grabbed the binds at my wrists, working at them.

  “Just tear them!” I yelled.

  “I cannot,” she said. “The binds at your wrists are laced with silver. If I tear the leather and the silver touches your skin, it will burn.”

  “That’s why I couldn’t break them.”

  She freed my wrists, touching my cheek. “Yes,” she said.

  “How did you find me?” I asked. “Who is with you?”

  “Rosalin and Carver,” she said. “They found your cell phone and used the scent on it to track you.”

  “Clever.” I smiled, somewhat.

  There was a heavy crashing noise and I turned to see some great black bipedal wolf charging the gray werewolf I recognized as Lukas.

  I got to my feet, eyes scanning the room. I felt my torso with my hands and winced at the pain. I was still wearing the holster, which meant my gun was around here somewhere. I moved as quickly and light-footed as I could. We were in a shed of some kind. Rosalin’s brother lay in a heap on his side, blindfolded and bound as I had been.

  “Lenorre.” I looked at her. She followed my gaze. I blinked and she was suddenly beside Henry, untying his binds.

  I kicked aside my chair, spotting a table beneath an old and rusty window. There was a drawer at the top of the small table. I went for it. Where else would my gun be?

  I heard the growl and turned to defend myself, but the black wolf intercepted, leaping onto Lukas’s back, its claws scratching at the gray wolf’s face. A cinnamon-colored wolf caught Lukas’s arm, sinking teeth in and clawing at his legs. Lukas gave a howl of pain. I opened the drawer and found my gun.

  The black wolf rode Lukas’s wolfman form to the ground and the cinnamon wolf got out of the way of falling werewolves.

  “Get off him,” I said, clicking the safety of the Mark III, holding the gun in a two-handed grip and aiming down my sights.

  The black wolf looked at me with golden eyes. There was a little bit of blue around the edges of his eyes, and I knew without a doubt that it was Carver.

  “Carver,” I said, “I know you’re angry, but please,” I added, “let me do my job.”

  His sunny eyes bore into mine. His furred mouth made the words guttural and clipped. “Make it slow,” he said.

  I nodded and drew in a deep breath, steeling myself as I slipped into to that place in my mind where I go when it’s just me, my gun, and the poor bastard on the other end.

  Carver rolled off Lukas.

  “Lukas Morris.” The wolf inside me combined her eerie voice with mine. My words growled at the edges. “For your crimes, you pay.”

  His wolfish lips drew back in a snarl as he got to his knees.

  I pulled the trigger before he could stand. Once, and the bullet lodged into his chest. His body jerked, reacting to the impact. Twice, and the bullet tore through the skin around his heart like the angry jaws of a predator. I took a few steps closer. My ears rang. I shot again. The bullet exploded his chest into a bloody cavity. Blood and thicker stuff hit my legs like someone had thrown it at me.

  I pulled the trigger until the magazine clicked empty. If I had more bullets, I would’ve kept shooting. I wanted to shoot him until he was more than just dead.

  I swayed on my feet and Lenorre caught my arm. “You are hurt,” she said. “I can hear your breath rattle. Your ribs are broken.”

  I was pretty sure they were broken too. I was also pretty sure that tipping the chair over had only made it worse.

  I shook my head, biting my lower lip in pain. “I’m fine,” I said and then nodded toward Rosalin’s brother. “Help him.”

  She went and helped him to his feet. He stumbled and I took a step forward. “Is he hurt?”

  He looked at me with bleary eyes, eyes that were such a mirror of his sister’s it was eerie. “A few scratches,” he managed to croak in a raw voice. I wondered how long he’d tried screaming the last few days. He turned to look up at Lenorre. “My sister?” he asked. “Where is she?”

  Carver sat near the door, licking at a wound in his side. He stopped to look up at me briefly, and with a sharp nod told me that it was over. The cinnamon-colored wolf limped toward Henry on all four of her paws. Her voice sounded so strange, so distorted. “Here,” she said, and I wondered if I sounded like that. I shook the thought away.

  Henry Walker looked down at his sister and slid helplessly to his knees. “Rosalin,” he whispered, reaching out with shaking fingers to touch the tip of her ear. Rosalin ducked her wolfish head and leaned into him.

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  She looked up at her brother and smiled with a wolfish grin, licking his face. His honey-colored eyes glistened with tears.

  I met Lenorre’s silvery gaze and said, “I need to call the cops.”

  She inclined her head. “I understand.”

  “You’ll have to go,” I said. “I won’t risk exposing those who saved my life.”

  “What will you tell them?” she asked.

  “That I was wearing a red cloak and taking a hike through the woods.” I gave a quick smile. “Don’t worry about me.” I clicked the safety back on and holstered the Mark III, nodding toward the door. “Take them and go.”

  She reached into the pocket of her coat and held something out to me. I looked down to see my cell phone. “You might need this,” she said and her red lips curved into a seductively amused smile that made my heart pound.

  I met her stormy eyes. “Thank you, for everything.”

  She touched my cheek with cool fingers. “Your safety is thanks enough.” She went to Henry, helping him to stand.

  Lenorre’s black coat fanned out behind her. The two wolves trailed side by side, following at her heels.

  “Lenorre,” I said.

  She stopped in the doorway.

  “Would you mind if I came over later?”

  Her lips curved into a beautiful smile that made the breath catch in my throat. “No, Kassandra,” she said, “I would like very much to see you after you attend to your health.”

  I drew a shallow breath. “I will.”

  I watched as she left with Henry Walker at her side and the two wolves trailing behind her like loyal and imposing guardians.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Arthur and a few cops that I didn’t know leaned over the dead werewolf.

  “Why is he all clawed up?” Arthur gave me a look.

  I shrugged and winced again, wrapping an arm around my stomach like that would help protect me from the pain in my ribs.

  “Kassandra…”

  I held my hand up. The best excuse I could think of was… “There were other wolves,” I said, blinking. “They saved me.”

  “Where did they go?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  One of the EMTs came in and looked at me. He dropped his little bag by the chair that I was sitting in. The leather straps and the blindfold that had been used on Henry Walker were shoved into the pockets of my leather jacket, which I’d found on the floor in the corner of the room. I really didn’t want to know how it got there.

  “
It looks like he was tortured with a spray of bullets,” the only female cop in the room spoke. She looked at me with eyes that were crystal blue. Her long red hair fell in a braid down her back.

  “Tortured?” I asked. “If I was going to torture him, I wouldn’t have used a gun.”

  Her eyes went a little wide around the edges.

  I crossed my arms. “When you’re fighting a werewolf, keeping them from coming at you is a necessity.”

  “Wrap it, folks.” Arthur stood, stepping away from the body. He carefully took the gloves off his hands. They had to examine the body so they could put all those spiffy little notes in their file.

  “I’m glad you did what you did.” Arthur stepped up to me as the EMT started cutting my shirt. I’d already taken off the holster. The leather jacket was on the floor with it by my feet.

  “It’s my job,” I said. The EMT’s cold gloved hands prodded at my ribs. “Ow!” I yelled.

  Arthur chuckled. The EMT shook his head. “You have two broken ribs that are going to heal improperly if I do not reset them,” he said, and I was glad that he hadn’t noticed the fact that they were probably already beginning to heal.

  I said, “Just do it.”

  Which I learned was a complete mistake, because he did.

  I think it was the first time Arthur had ever heard me scream.

  Once I could breathe again, I turned to look at Arthur. “The wolf’s name,” I said, “is Lukas Morris. He used to live in Denver, Colorado.”

  “What about Carver?” he asked.

  “Innocent,” I said. “It was Lukas the whole time.”

  “Is Carver a…?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I lied. “I don’t care. I just know he’s innocent. You should contact the police in Denver. There were three killings there that match the ones here. It looks like his handiwork.”

  He wrote it down. When he was done he gave me a long look. “You need a ride?”

  I smiled. “That would be nice.”

  I stepped outside of the small shack and into the blue-and-red haze of the police lights. The shack was a few miles away from the clearing where the pack met. That much, I’d figured out on my own. How else could Lenorre, Rosalin, and Carver have found me? They’d traced my scent through the woods.