Releasing the Wolf (11 page)

“Really? Is that why your pack has scented her?” She reached down, roughly tugged at Lydia’s coat until it came off her, rolling the red-head across the ground without any care; then she grabbed the front of her white blouse, bunched it up in her hand and forcefully ripped it off her.

Lydia moaned in protest, still unconscious, but clearly alive – which was obviously a good thing, although he didn’t know how she would fair once she woke up.

The Trident sniffed at the blouse and he found his nostrils flaring with hers.

Taylor.

That’s why he could smell him. Second revelation of the night: Taylor had put out.

Well, fuck me.

She threw the piece of cotton clothing to her pack. There were about ten of them in the room, and about half of them shifted to hone in better on the scent.

Ryan shivered in repulsion. When werewolves shifted, they looked like wolves – maybe a bit larger than average, but wolves nonetheless. When Tridents shifted they looked like a scene from a werewolf horror movie. He could almost hear Sam Cooke’s version of
Blue Moon
playing in the background.

“Imprint that scent into your minds, my loves,” instructed the female, who he could now clearly see was the Alpha of this particular group. It was rare for wolves to be led by females, but The Trident did things differently … and they weren’t exactly wolves.

“That’s who we go after next.”

“Aw … I guess I’ve just spoiled your element of surprise then. Sorry about that.”

All heads whipped around in the direction of the voice to find a naked Taylor standing by the wall near the door – the door which, from this angle, Ryan could see had been taken off the latch and left ajar.

He glanced around quickly, wishing his chains would just fucking disintegrate or something, and noticed a small, half-open window higher up, some way above the door. A bit too big for a human to fit through, but manageable for a wolf – especially a slender one like Taylor. And none of them had noticed him come in because his scent was already in the room.

Attaboy!

The female Trident snarled, then everything went deathly silent as something tinkered across the cement floor. A small grenade.

Everything that happened next, did so in a blur.

Everyone ran towards Taylor. Five werewolves barged through the door and rushed into the room, throwing themselves at the Trident. Shots rang out and Ryan realised Lawrence took up the doorway with two dart guns in his hands. Taylor bolted past everyone in the confusion and threw himself on Lydia, and a “clack” that sounded like a firecracker exploding, bounced off the walls deafening them all.

For a moment, everything was too bright, and then Ryan – ears still ringing – opened his eyes, blinked and found himself looking into a cloud of dust. No – not dust. Powder. Datura powder.

The effect was immediate. Every single Trident not taken out by darts, coughed, choked and spluttered. Their eyes became bloodshot, their veins ballooned, and then blood seeped through their pores; streamed from their eyes and noses…

“Ryan.” That was Lawrence. He stood next to him staring at the silver chains that held him in place.

“I’ve never been so glad to see your anal expression in my life,” croaked out Ryan, and he thought he saw a sliver of a smile on the man’s lips.

“I’ve got a chainsaw on my bike.”

“Along with guns and knives,” he added, noticing his attire. “How exactly did the police miss you?”

Then his mouth did curve upwards. “They’re too busy with drunken girls and boys at this time of night. Besides, I’m good at hiding, you know that.”

No, he didn’t know that. The guy had a black Honda Concept 1, complete with a colossal 1832cc V-twin engine. That thing roared like the monster it was, and Lawrence looked deadly on it. How the fuck he’d never been stopped by the police – ever – was beyond him. Ryan got stopped just walking down the street minding his own business.

“Jesus,” said Lawrence. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks. It’s a new style I’m going for.”

“Trying to impress your mate?”

It’s not like his stonking erection was unnoticeable, but Lawrence remained the gentlemen and said nothing about it. Although he did raise his eyebrows after glancing downwards briefly. “What in god’s name happened to your nuts?”

“They met a jet-powered water hose.”

He grimaced.

“They’re already healing.”

A rare glint of amusement lit Lawrence’s eyes. “You have balls of steel.”

“You have inappropriate humour.”

A gentle groan sounded to their right. They both turned towards Lydia and Taylor. He had her propped up against a crate, although her head still lolled. But her eyebrows furrowed and she was trying to open her eyes.

“What the hell is she doing here, Lawrence?”

“That, I don’t have an answer for.”

“Taylor serviced her.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Never thought I’d see the fucking day.”

“They seem to have formed a connection. There’s something else you need to know.”

Ryan stared at him.

He stared back, unwavering. “Aside from the fact she has no bloody clue werewolves exist … she submitted to me. Grade one. It was just a look, and an action, but it was there.”

“What does that mean?”

“Haven’t a clue, but you’re sure she’s yours?”

“I’ve dreamt about her for over ten years. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life – spent the best part of the last decade looking for her – you know that.”

Lawrence nodded.

Thunder clapped, and with the door open it was damn loud. They both jumped.

“Shit,” cursed Lawrence. “The storm’s right on top of us. All the Trident are down. I’m going to get the chainsaw.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“I don’t see the woman – their leader.”

They both scanned the bodies on the floor, and then gazed at the open door.

“She fled.”

Ryan shook his head. “No. I don’t think she’s the type to ru—”

Lawrence screamed in pain, arched backwards, then went down.

Talk of the devil. She’d jumped them while they were trying to pick her out from the masses on the floor.

The lead pipe in her hand must have connected with Lawrence’s spine. Hard.

She spun towards Ryan, eyes blazing, and a syringe filled with yellow liquid in her other hand. “Are you ready?” she sneered.

He didn’t have time to reply. Two of their pack – Doug and Pete from what he could make out – pounced on her, taking her down. She syringe and pipe flew out of her grasp.

She changed form whilst fending them off, and sank her teeth into Pete’s hind leg.

He howled.

The bitch was now twice the size she had been as human, and butt-ugly to boot.

“You’re fucking ugly,” said Ryan.

Lawrence shot him a look through his pain. “Is verbal antagonism your new weapon of choice?”

“See me shrug,” he replied, because he couldn’t actually move his shoulders.

In that time, Lawrence had unclipped one of his daggers. He now crawled forward on his elbows and stabbed the thing into the female’s thigh while Doug had her pinned – barely – by her neck.

“Tell me that blade is coated in Datura.”

“This blade is coated in Datura.”

On cue, the Trident convulsed on the ground, her body swelling.

Doug let her go and raced over to Pete who was nursing his leg.

Lawrence rolled away, just before she became a fountain of blood.

Everything went eerily quiet upon her death, until Lydia’s hushed voice cut through the silence. “Now there’s something you don’t see every day.”

~*~

This was the most disturbing dream she’d ever had.

The almighty thunder had woken her. Although it hadn’t, had it? Because she was still dreaming about monsters disintegrating, wolves, Taylor, Lawrence, and ah … yes … Ryan. That’s how she knew it was a dream: she always dreamed about him. His scent filled her senses to the brim, and she moaned out loud, squirming at the way her body responded.

Taylor brushed the hair from her face. “No more waiting,” he smiled, and of course, his smile was sad. It pressed her button – she didn’t need to feel her own grief over and over again every time she looked at Taylor. She wished she could punch the sadness clean off his face.

Whoa! Violence? Where was this coming from? And the blood and stabbing that she was seeing – ew.
Nice dream, Lydia.

She wasn’t usually the violent type.
Clearly, I have more issues than I thought.

“Lawrence, get me the fuck down,” growled Ryan.

Lawrence hurried outside, and without him there she now had a clear view of Ryan. She looked straight at him for the first time, and …
holy shit!
He was … er … big. Where it mattered.

Don’t look directly at it!

She snapped her head back.

Crap, I’m drooling.

She was. She was actually salivating.

And what the hell had happened to his nuts?

Lawrence walked back into the room with a chainsaw, and another roll of thunder announced his entrance – this one sounding even louder than the one before. Lightning flashed a second later. This storm had to be right on top of them.

Bizarrely, her body seemed to respond to the thunder and lightning, the same way it responded to Ryan: with uncontrollable lust. She hoped she’d be able to remember this dream tomorrow for the therapist. The lightning above her; the men and destruction around her; Ryan looking all … phallic – there had to be some male symbolism thing going on here.

Wait … hadn’t she met a woman? She vaguely remembered a head of long, dark hair and freaky-as-fuck eyes. Was that when the dream had begun? No! That woman had hit her! So … was this real?

Thunder cracked through the sky once more, and she swore she felt the building vibrate, but she couldn’t think on that, because a horrendous pain tore through her as surely as if the lightning itself had. Her dreams had never been this painful before – usually she only got the pain on waking up…

Through her scream, she heard Ryan yell something to Taylor.

Lawrence revved up the chainsaw.

Two hands grabbed her under her arms and she was pulled back against Taylor’s chest.

Oh. Where was her blouse?

Another clap of thunder shook the building, and another scream sounded from her as a second bout of agony ripped through her. Why wasn’t this storm passing?

For a moment she wondered if the lightning had hit her – her entire body felt on fire, as if she were being burnt alive. Then, out of the blue, her body heaved under the weight of an orgasm. It totally blind-sided her, but dampened the torment that tried to rule her.

Only coming down from it could she feel Taylor’s hand between her legs, slipped inside her joggers and underwear, his words in her ear… “Hold on … hold on…”

Ryan swayed furiously in his chains.

“Keep fucking still!” yelled Lawrence. “Do you want to lose a limb?”

“Hurry!”

“I
am
hurrying!”

Thunder sounded once again. This time the lightning flashed right with it, and the weirdest thing happened: she completely left her body. Floated right out of it and watched the scene beneath her like an observer in a dream, and it was at that precise moment she realised with certainty this
wasn’t
a dream, because everything suddenly made a strange kind of sense.

She heard herself wail, and saw herself throw her head back against Taylor’s shoulder, grab his hand with her left to press him harder against her; then with her other hand, her palm outstretched, she reached up, up, up…

Even in her out-of-body state she felt the tingle in her palm, felt the crux of that tingle grow into something monumental, important … life-changing.

She saw Ryan drop to the floor and sprint towards her; Taylor trying to keep her pain at bay as he fought with her flailing body; Lawrence staring at her outstretched hand with confusion, then understanding…
“Move!”
he yelled.

Too late.

The lightning blew the roof apart, and came straight at her.

Chapter Nine

It had been a long time since he’d been dumbstruck, but it was shock that kept him rooted to the spot, unable to sound a single word.

Ryan and Taylor had both been thrown back by the blast that had erupted from Lydia as soon as the lightning hit her body. Lydia herself convulsed on the ground, tendrils of the white heat wrapped around her; the rain that fell through the now abolished roof, pelting her skin – drenching them all – but doing nothing to put out the lightning. She
was
the lightning.