3: Fera - Pack City Page 11

  He rubbed his face, squeezed his nose between his thumb and forefinger, covering his mouth.

  I had to stagger from the water, drop to one knee, then to all fours.

  Puke.

  He said, “You’ll be all right. Don’t fight the shift.”

  Mr. Vocal said, “You sure you don’t do it doggy style, Jack? She’s in position.”

  “Shut up.” Jack sounded angry and maybe a little concerned, but he didn’t close the distance between us.

  It didn’t matter. I couldn’t look up. I couldn’t do anything but hang on. I was shifting back.

  Holy shit, I was shifting back. My eyes rolled up into my head, I heard popping, grinding, stretching--I phased through crinos with no control--right into lupus. But fuck that shit, it hurt like hell, and when I was done, I felt weak, almost crippled. Definitely like I was dying. I took a few steps and fell at Jack’s feet. Crawled to his feet, to be more correct.

  Not that I’d been going to him. At least, I don’t think I was.

  Yeah. Maybe I was.

  Before I passed out, I heard Mr. Vocal say, “Shit! Here they come! Get the hell out of here before--”

  Chapter Twelve

  I woke up in a strange place. A place I’d never been before. An apartment in the city. I didn’t recognize anything, felt totally disoriented. It took me several minutes to struggle up to a sitting position.

  Jack sat across from me, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. My gaze strayed to the window, dark was setting in again. That answered my first question, about how long I’d been out. Obviously, all day.

  He smiled. Mr. Crooked Lips. And he said, “You’re one pretty wolf, Fera.”

  I flashed my eyes at him and pulled back a lip. I’d show him pretty.

  “So this is what you’re really like when you wake up. I should’ve guessed.” He shrugged, sat back, cradled a glass filled with an amber liquid. “I mean, you gotta have some of the same blood that your brother does in there.”

  “What do you know about my brother?” Yep. You could say I was irritable, distrusting, manifesting all the signs of a street dog--ready to bite.

  “I know that he’s working two sides of the fence. Got plans of his own.” He took a sip. Must not have gone down smooth, because his face jerked a little in reaction.

  “How did you get me out of there?”

  “Let’s say, now that I know what I’m up against, I’m not all that outmatched.”

  I didn’t trust him. It didn’t make sense that he’d gotten past that many wolves. And I didn’t understand what he meant about Hood working two sides of the fence.

  I don’t care that he had me out of there, safe and sound, and that I didn’t seem to have any new marks or pains. He’d hurt me. And he’d revealed something awful to me.

  A bitch is used to the other bitches plotting against her. She knows that that’s part of life in Pack City. But to find out that the males used you as a pawn, that hurts. And to think my brother was the asshole that may have set me up, that was, well, unthinkable. And it’s even worse when you may have made a fool of yourself on top of all the rest. I tried desperately to remember if I’d stupidly declared undying love, or anything else remotely close to it.

  Yes. Pride, saving face, that was pretty much all I had left, and not too much of that, mind you. I called him a prick. And I got up, stretched my aching body, went nosing around.

  No female scents. No scents but his. At the entry to the kitchen, I announced, “I’m thirsty.”

  “So, shift and get yourself something.” He pretended to be interested in a magazine at his elbow. I knew he was testing me. I didn’t want to play his game, or give him any more information about what I could or couldn’t do. And at that moment, I was pretty sure I couldn’t have shifted for my life.

  But I was wrong. His patience out-waited my thirst--because you know I wasn’t asking that man twice. With a loud, “Fuck you, I promise you’ll be sorry for this,” I concentrated. And lo, and behold, my body did its thing.

  There was no ugly sound. Some moans from me, maybe, but nothing like popping. I went straight to the sink. Oh, I’d seen people use them before. Kayty had given me some trips to town, shown me how things worked.

  Yes. Walked me like a dog. That’s why I picked out the damn collar. I don’t look enough like a German shepherd or a husky to get away without a collar. Pure wolf, remember?

  I turned the sink on, leaned over, and put my face under the running water--drank my fill. I know he watched me. Wanted me.

  Because his next words were, “That loser was wrong. I’d do it doggy style with you, if it pleases you.”

  I didn’t like the twitter that slithered through to my groin immediately. Zinged right through my back, straight from his gaze, spiraled down to my crotch, and homesteaded. I took my time turning off the water, wiping my face with the back of my hand. There was a window over his sink. I looked out, and asked, “What was he talking about?”

  “Come here. We need to talk.”

  I liked the distance, but he held his tongue until I padded back into the living area. I flopped down on his sofa, pulled the closest thing over me, a pillow. Not that I was self-conscious, just felt like protecting myself. Didn’t want him to smell my reaction to him.

  He swallowed the rest of his drink and set the glass aside. Leaning forward, he said, “I have to explain some things to you that you’re not going to like.”

  “So, don’t bother.” I looked toward the door. I could shift out, and leave. Maybe not go back to P.C. Maybe find my own way. There’s a ton of lone wolves out there. Now that I’d shifted to human, and knew how to do it, I could handle it.

  Maybe.

  He touched me. Just a finger to my knee, to get my attention. “Fera--”

  So wonderful, to hear my name from his lips. Core-melting. Honest. That thought made me jerk away from him. “What?” I hopped up off the couch.

  “I’m becoming an expert on werewolf behavior. Masters of avoidance.”

  “Right.” I paced.

  “Want to know who bit me?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You might find it interesting.”

  I stopped the pacing. Putting my hands on my hips, I said, “Okay. Who? I thought it was a loser.”

  “Nah. That would have been easy to avoid.”

  “But you said--”

  “That they had me down, pinned, ready to bite me again? Yeah. It’s all true, but that was when they were hunting me down, to exterminate me.”

  “Funny. You seemed on pretty good terms.”

  “Let’s just say I taught them a little respect.”

  “So, who--?”

  Apparently, he had a sudden thought. “You know what? Let’s play a game.”

  “I don’t play games.”

  “If you’re surprised by my answer--on who bit me--we do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “It. Doggy style, even.”

  “It doesn’t really matter to me. The Pack will deal with the culprit. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m outta there.”

  “Love me, Fera. Let me love you.”

  Okay. That got me. Had me flinching, backing up, instantly even more wary. “Don’t start that bullshit on me, Jack. I know your game now. I was a play, part of a deal. That’s over.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing’s over. Not until I say it is.”

  “You think that Hood won’t follow us? He’s probably around the corner as we speak.”

  Jack wrinkled his nose, shrugged. “I think the losers have muddied the trail a little more than that.”

  “So, what? They’re playing rat pack for you?”

  He shrugged again.

  “They’re fucking losers, and you are, too, for doing business with them. Fucking me for a price.” That’s what really made me mad.

  Jack had me by the elbow, nose to nose, a millisecond later. Standing there, toe to toe, I could barely breathe. His leashed tension was palpable. “F
or my life. You don’t think you’d roll over for that? It was a fair trade on their initial request.”

  He didn’t have to say it. I knew the losers were bi-sexual. But this told me, unequivocally, that Jack wasn’t. His fingers pinched a little. I may have winced, but I didn’t cry out.

  Flipping my head so my hair would fall backward out of my eyes, I said, “Your deal is done. Let me go.”

  “Hood bit me.”

  “Impossible.”

  He stared me down. He stared me down until I couldn’t doubt it.

  “Not only that, but he bit me and let me go on purpose.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  His brow went up. Just one. And I thought, please tell me you’re joking. Please smile, say you were teasing. Oh, Gaia, please be--

  Jack cut through my thoughts, my spiritual begging, by saying, “Fera, he chose me for a reason. To prove a point. Except I disproved it. I answered a question.”

  I didn’t want to ask, but my tongue formed the words. “What question?”

  “Where do the pure ones descend from?”

  “That’s not true. I was born a wolf, raised a wolf.”

  He kissed me then, hard, and said, “Do you know what Hood does, out in the human world?”

  I blinked. My mind raced. “He’s a doctor.”

  “Correction, sweetheart. He’s a geneticist.”

  “A gen...geneti--”

  “Studies how--”

  “I know what a geneticist is.” I yanked free of him.

  “I work for a firm called Wolf Enterprises. In connection with Lobos International.” His voice went into a tunnel then. I was struggling against fainting. My vision blurred as he explained, of all things, Wolf and Lobos to me.

  “National and world organizations, consortiums for werewolves and garou kin.”

  Several members of Pack City interacted there, or traveled for the cause, in the name of one company or the other, or one of its many subsidiaries. I wondered how they could not have recognized him when he came through P.C. Or he them.

  I insisted, “But you were human. Not kin.” Confused, I said, “You said you were bit. This doesn’t make sense.” It didn’t make sense because Wolf and Lobos only hired garou. Unnaturals weren’t even on the scale, because they were all supposed to be terminated upon discovery. Or so I thought.

  “Try and forget what you think you know. And consider this--Humans are being selectively culled, bitten, added to the race of the garou.”

  “But that’s...unnatural. Hood, of all people, is against that.”

  “He sure talks the talk, doesn’t he?” Jack smiled, then, and added, “Sweetheart, I’m telling you, there’s a secret organization within Lobos that is breeding a new, stronger race. A genetically enhanced, random code widening the gene pool--eliminating the losers by strengthening the DNA. You’re a product of a union between a garou and a bitten.”

  “But--”

  “Always, the garou must be wolf born. Or the random code gets screwed up. Lines up wrong. Stacks the brain cells on top of each other. Thus, the rogue unnaturals that you all fear.”

  It was too much to take in. My brother, the great supremacist, was actually a revolutionary in genetic engineering? Why had he preached so hard to me, when I had the ability to help in the very experiments that he seemed so involved in?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Why did Hood go to such elaborate lengths to have me bred and disgraced?” I didn’t understand. “Why not take me into the city, introduce us normally?”

  Jack waited a minute before forcing himself to relax, to smile, and ask, “You think you would have fallen for me without the added intrigue?”

  “Yes,” I frowned. “No.” Confused, I said, “Maybe.” Who could know? Why had Hood not confided in me?

  Before I realized it, Jack had led me to the sofa, had me down on it, and was stroking the back of my neck, helping me to relax, too. My brain was stuttering through all that he’d told me.

  I asked, “How did he pick you?”

  Jack shrugged, grinned. “You’ll have to ask him, but I don’t think your brother is at liberty.”

  I squinted up at him. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I happened to overhear some of his long range plans.”

  “Where?”

  “At Lobos.”

  “No. Hood works for Mark Wolf Enterprises.”

  “Which is a subsidiary of Lobos.” He clarified, “I don’t think your brother is really at liberty to detail all he does.”

  “So what were you doing there, before you were bit?”

  Jack laughed then, leaned back, looked up at the ceiling. There was a fan above us, lazily spinning, keeping the air from feeling stagnant. “I thought I was doing a demo on tri-athalon fitness. Possibly working up a commercial deal for that new protein drink they’re peddling.”

  My mind hooked on the tri-athalon part. “You’re an Olympian?” I’d heard about them, but never seen one. Many of the garou in Pack City followed the Olympics. Now I knew why it fascinated them so. Possible breeders?

  Jack’s hand kept up its deep tissue massage. I could feel the stress leaving my body, virtually melting out of me. And his voice, closer to my ear, soft, sexy, sensual, asked, “That’s where my stamina comes from. Hours of training.”

  It made me giggle.

  Holy shit. He had me again. Trusting him, wanting him to hold me. Thinking about how many times we’d done it already. Not noticing at the time--just how fast he moved. Blink of an eye fast. Unbelievable reflexes. Total knowledge of the pressure points of a body.

  I asked suddenly, “What the hell happened last night? I think I’m missing things.”

  “First crinos is like that.”

  “How would you know? How long have you been changing?”

  “Long enough.”

  I hated the runaround. I bit my lower lip, “What happened while I was delirious?”

  He chuckled. “Ah. Now you want me to talk dirty to you.”

  I started to say no, then stuttered, and shut my lips. But a second later, I accused, “You let the losers watch?”

  “I was a little wrapped up in the event. You could say that you had me totally enthralled.”

  “But--”

  “You were a bitch in heat, all over me, and I had no will to protest.”

  “Still--”

  His lips were on my collarbone. “Still,” he kissed me, “Some things, things I know are not anything to worry about, are not more important enough to stop my lovemaking...with you.” That whole spiel was punctuated with multiple tiny kisses all across my collarbone.