Heir To The Pack (The Cursed Pack Book 1) (22 page)

They rolled over and over
across the clearing, each snapping at the other’s throat. Dash grunted as his
back ended up against a rock. He threw himself upwards, not wanting to be
trapped beneath Irina.

She landed on her feet and
backed away slowly. Uh-oh. What if she was casting a spell?

Gathering himself, he
sprang, again. He smelled her magic brewing. Thicker patchouli. Not perfume, but
magic. And not the magic from the greenhouse, either. She wasn’t the killer.

In mid-air he sucked back,
landed awkwardly on his feet in front of her, losing his balance and stumbling.
Taking advantage of his fumble, she struck.

Her magic flowed over his
fur, itchy and uncomfortable as the woman herself. Dash fought its insect-like
incursions over his skin. Drawing on his power as alpha, he pushed hard back at
the magic and felt it dissipate.

Irina stood still, waiting
for her spell to act. When nothing happened, he used her surprise to leap
again, and pin her to the ground.

He stared into her pale
green eyes, waiting for her submission. After a few seconds of staring him
down, she whimpered and turned her head away, tail thumping on the grass.

Dash stepped back. She
changed, again. She was powerful indeed, the change effortless. Only when she
was back in human form, and crumpled to the grass on her knees, did he shift.

“You’re not Shura,” he
said, now he could think straight.

“What are you talking
about? You know who I am.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry that I scratched you.
I’m actually sorry I ever met you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he said
between his teeth. He’d love to snarl at her, and never speak to her or her
Gods damned pack again. But that wasn’t how it worked. He’d have to interact
with them for the rest of his life, so he was going to have to be adult about
this.

Were those tears? Aw,
hell.

“Look,” he said, rubbing a
hand over his face. “We’re never going to be a couple. But there are more
options than married or enemies. Can we call a truce?”

Through her reddened eyes,
she watched him closely, her pale complexion blotchy. “What do you mean?”

“Let me be completely
honest with you. Before I knew about Jack, I would probably have married you,
even though I barely know you. I didn’t have a girlfriend, only memories of
this amazing woman I thought I’d never see again. And then she turned up, and...”
He took a deep breath, and started over. “When I’m with her, I’m happier than
I’ve ever been in my life. They are all I want.”

“Do you love her?”

He stopped himself from
giving a snap response, forced himself to think about it, rationally. Perhaps
he’d learned something from Annie. “I think I was in love with her the first
time I laid eyes on her. And now she’s back. Yes. Yes, I do.”

It felt right. As right as
anything he’d ever thought, or said, or felt, in his life.

Irina nodded once,
sharply. “I understand.” She paused, her eyes focused on some inner thoughts. “I
can’t hate you for that.”

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

She said nothing more, but
turned and walked away into the woods, her pale figure disappearing among the
trees.

Dash stood alone in the
moonlight. Annie. He loved her. “I really love her,” he said, out loud. “Oh
shit.”

He shifted once again,
feeling the pull of muscles and skin, realizing how exhausted he was from the
changes, the running, and the fight. The other wolves were not even in earshot.
He’d head back to the ranch, and find Annie.

A tremor of tiredness, or
fear, vibrated through his paws as he trotted into the woods.

He could only hope she
might feel the same way. If she didn’t, he would never be the same again. But
he had to show her. Tonight.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

Gaelan hadn’t locked her
in her room, strictly, but he’d explained in precise and cold detail exactly
why she should never do anything like that again. There was a long accounting,
first of all the things that might have gone wrong. He repeatedly compared her
to Little Red Riding Hood, and pointed out that some of the wolves down below
were, in fact, people’s grandmothers. Despite the best of intentions, someone
might have gotten carried away and tried to eat her.

That particular rant had
little effect on her, but when he entered the second phase, that of enumerating
what Dash would do to Gaelan if so much as a hair on her head came to harm, she
began to feel guilty. She was fairly sure Dash wouldn’t actually eviscerate
Gaelan. They were best friends, after all. But Gale insisted.

As an olive branch she
agreed that she would stay in the suite. Since Daisy and Jack were asleep,
she’d wait in Dash’s room for his return, because she didn’t want to sit in the
living room with a glowering Gaelan. She settled down on Dash’s bed with her
notes, to think, and to wait.

The note on top of the
pile had Shoshanna’s words on it. “She must change.” Of course, there was no
way of knowing for sure that “she” was Annie. But she had a strong, strong
feeling, and the girl had looked directly at her when she said it.

It was kind of
hypocritical trying to use logic and the pure power of her own intellect to
solve this crime, while making wild assumptions. Especially considering the
amount of magic involved. But she didn’t have a lot to go on.

Neither had the girl said
anything about changing into what. Annie simply assumed she meant into a wolf. For
all she knew, it meant “clean the house more often” or “go on a diet” but for
simplicity’s sake she’d go with the wolf idea.

Kill the witch. Naturally.
If the witch herself was a werewolf, Annie didn’t fancy going up against her as
a common or garden-variety human. Even as a werewolf she’d be at a
disadvantage, she guessed, since the witch had magic. But teeth and claws,
speed and strength, and fur to protect her body, beat going up against her with
sheer intellectual prowess. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to kill
the witch with logic. No matter how much Annie might wish for the witch to
disappear into paradox with a puff of smoke.

For now, she'd try not to
think about having to kill someone, because thinking about it made her break
out in a prickly sweat. She'd do anything for Jack. Anything.

So she’d have to figure
out how to change. The Oracle had said she was Lost Pack, and had lost her wolf
spirit. Where was it? That was the question. Dash’s aunts had said something
about an abyss. That didn’t sound particularly inviting, and she was willing to
bet it didn’t show up on any maps.

Annie got up from the bed
and paced the room. Okay, so this abyss was something metaphysical. Magical. It
followed logically that she needed to use metaphysical or magical means to get
her spirit wolf back. A magical way to call it back to her.

Lightning struck in her
thoughts. “That’s it!” The key had been in front of her the whole time.

Dash. Dash could call her
wolf out. The same way he’d called the pack. She’d felt that. She’d felt it
even more, incredibly strongly, when he’d called Michael’s wolf. If he turned
all that Alpha power toward her wolf spirit, he might be able to call it home.

She paced to the window and
flicked the curtain aside, watching for signs of Dash. Now she was committed to
a course, she hoped he’d get here as soon as possible so she could execute her
plan.

When Dash had called
Michael’s wolf, it had nearly brought her to her knees. That the call had such
a strong effect on her, when he wasn’t even trying to call her wolf
specifically. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

She paced back and forth,
waiting, thinking, waiting, and jumped several inches in the air when the door
opened.

Dash stood in the doorway,
naked and streaked with black mud and sweat. His skin provided a dramatically
pale contrast against the dirt.

Her heart skipped beats as
she ran to his side. He smelled of sweat and blood. “Oh my God, are you okay? What
happened?”

He shook his head. “I’m
fine, it’s only a few scratches. It could have been a lot worse. I had a...discussion
with Irina.”

“Oh.” She took a step
back. That could mean anything. She scrutinized the scratches. They were
everywhere—on his chest, his arms, his legs, and his belly, as well as
the one she’d first seen on his face. That was by far the worst. On a human it
would mean stitches, but she’d seen Michael heal worse damage than this.

Her gaze flicked back up
to his face. How had he gotten so scratched up? Had they fought? Or had it been
a lovers’ spat? He’d said there was nothing between them, but the sly curl of
jealousy nagged at her thoughts. Forcing her tone to be calm, she said, “So
what happened?”

“She confronted me about
you. She wasn’t very happy with my answers, and we got in a fight.” He paused. “I
won. I guess. But either way, it’s resolved, and she’s not going to give us any
more trouble. And she’s not the enemy, here.”

He seemed to be leaving
out a lot. Annie felt nauseous. “How do you know?”

“She tried to cast a spell
on me.”

Her hand came up to cover
her mouth, almost of its own accord. “Oh God. Are you really all right?”

“I am. She failed. But I
scented her magic, and I know it wasn’t her who killed the Oracle. I think our
troubles with the Russians are over.” Sighing, he sat down on a chair, and
leaned back and closed his eyes.

“Let me get you a drink,”
she said, and fetched him water from the bathroom. How she hated to see him
beaten up. His troubles with the Russians might be over, but she couldn’t help
but be pissed at Irina for laying claws, and perhaps even teeth, on Dash.

When she brought it to
him, he used both arms to lever himself up and out of the chair to take it. “Thanks.
I really need a shower.” He threw back the water, gulping noisily. Putting it
 
aside, he went into the bathroom.

Annie recomposed herself,
preparing for the conversation. Nothing had changed. She still needed Dash to
try and call her wolf. Focusing her mind on the task at hand, she settled
herself on the bed, trying to relax.

He came out of the
bathroom with a white towel slung low on his hips, and sat down on the bed next
to her. Her gaze followed the line of his body to where the curve of smooth
skin and muscle disappeared under the towel. “What’s up?” he said. “You look
like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Taking a deep breath, she
launched into her plan. “So, we still don’t know who killed the Oracle, but Shoshanna’s
prophecy, vision, whatever you want to call it is the best thing we have to go
on. Agreed?”

“Sure,” he said easily.

“She said that the witch
is among us, and I need to kill her. So far, we don’t know who the witch is,
but she has to be a werewolf. And it’s not Irina,” she added, unnecessarily. Her
mouth dried as she came to the crux of things. She licked her lips. No more
dissembling. There was no reason to be nervous. “Finally, she said I had to
change. I think we can all agree that it would be easier to kill a werewolf if
one was, in fact, a werewolf, and likely in wolf form.”

“Probably true. You’re
saying ‘we’ a lot,” he remarked. “Also, you can’t change. So I think I’ll be
helping you with that. Maybe we should get you a gun.” He sat up, focusing on
her face.

Annie stopped. Well, that
was logical. “I suppose that might work,” she said, “but that’s not what Shoshanna
said. Anyway. I had an idea.”

Dash said nothing more,
but stayed focused on her face. “Go on.”

“When you called the pack
to hunt, I felt that, all the way down to my bones.”

“You are one of us, even
if you can’t change,” he allowed. “It shouldn’t be that surprising. The calls
are stirring. It’s like the battle hymn of the pack.”

“Right. And when you
called Michael’s wolf – I’ve never felt anything like it.” She
remembered, again, suppressing a shudder of lust.

“That is pretty
interesting,” he said, suddenly focused, his pupils growing huge, lending a
dark aspect to his pale eyes. “I wonder why that is.”

She rose to her knees,
which took her within inches of him. “I thought, perhaps, that you could...”

“What,” he said, his gaze
on her mouth, his voice deepening, “What did you want me to do?”

He leaned closer to her,
and anticipation fluttered through her body. From here, she could smell his
clean skin, and the air between them almost glowed with energy.

“I want you to call my
wolf,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Call it back from wherever it is.”

“Okay,” he said, his gaze
never lifting from her mouth. “Whatever you want.” His breath tickled over her
lips, and they tingled. “Annie,” he said.

“Yes,” she breathed,
watching him watch her, feeling warmth kindle inside her belly.

“Are you sure?” He raised
a finger to her mouth, stroked it along her bottom lip, down her jaw, and along
her neck. She breathed in, sharply. “When?”

“Yes. Now,” she said, only
vaguely aware of what they were talking about, and what she was saying yes to. Her
nipples hardened, rubbing against the sheer fabric of the red dress. Between
her legs, her heartbeat throbbed in time with Dash’s breathing. She squeezed
her thighs together to try to contain the feeling, and focus her mind. But that
merely put pressure on the parts of her body she was trying not to think about.
Or think with.

“Are you ready?” Dash
said, his voice little more than a whisper.

She nodded.

His pale gaze rose to
hers, and suddenly she was in his thrall, the full power of the Alpha turned on
her soul, pulling at it, commanding her to submit. In her previous life she
would have fought it. Now, everything rode on her submitting to his command. Her
change. Her destiny. Their son’s future.

She gave herself over to
him, opened her soul, her spirit, and her mind.

Seemingly at a distance
came his howl, a high-pitched note that vibrated through her heart. And she saw
the room no more.

His howl transported her
to another place, another plane. It was dark, dark down here, wherever she was,
down in a crevasse with walls of darkness rising on both sides of her. Further
along the valley, a black wolf stood in a single moonbeam, illuminated from
above, searching, seeking, scenting, looking for something.

Taking a step forward, she
found that she had four legs rather than two, here in this dark place. Her paws
padded over sharp rocks, slipping on the shale. She let out a whimper.

The black wolf turned his
head to the sound, paused, and trotted toward her. Dash.

Help me, she thought,
because she had no way to speak.

The wolf stopped, and held
her in the full power of his pale gaze, and it
pulled
at her. Hard. Painfully hard. Like a change of form, every
bone and muscle stretched in agony, every nerve scraped over a knife’s edge,
like needles in her eyes, knives in her ears, hot coals on her feet, and teeth
eviscerating her bowels from her belly.

She screamed and it came
out as a howl in the dark place. She was being torn apart by the
pull
, bone from bone and flesh from
flesh, until nothing was left. The dark place held her too fiercely, and she
could not come, even though the call was an irresistible force.

She screamed and screamed,
until darkness overcame her altogether.

*
         
*
         
*

Annie swam up to the
surface, through layers of memory and pieces of herself she’d forgotten she
owned. Like digging through her grandmother’s attic, she passed through faded
memories and experiences she didn’t know if she’d lived through or been told
about.

As she came toward the
light, she heard an odd sound. At first she couldn’t place it. Not a sound
she’d heard before. Not one that was familiar to her.

A groan of pain. She
opened her eyes.

She lay on Dash’s bed,
splayed out on her back. One hand tingled, almost painfully. She turned her
head, and saw Dash kneeling on the bed beside her, holding her hand in a
furious grip to his face. His eyes were closed, and tears ran down his cheeks.

“Dash?” she said,
questioning, and her voice came out husky, broken. Someone had sanded her
throat with a power tool. That was the only possible explanation.

His eyes flicked open. “Annie,”
he gasped, “You’re alive!” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him,
cradling her against his chest. “You’re alive.” He sobbed, rocking her back and
forth.

“Why are you crying?”

He grunted, and swiped at
his face with the back of one hand. “I thought you were gone. You weren’t
breathing. You cried blood.”