Read Mark of the Wolf Page 20


  He glanced down at her, and the possessiveness in his gaze made her heart flutter. He ran a hand over her bruises, down her throat and over her collar bone. “I'll always come after you,” he said into her eyes. “Promise.”

  He gathered her up into his arms and took them back to their clothes, where they quickly dressed. Then he lifted her up again and started down the mountain, traveling at a slow pace – she could have walked by herself, but she didn't make the offer. She wanted to be held just as badly as he wanted to hold her.

  Once they were back in the Camaro, he pointed them in the direction of his house. She smiled, catching sight of his green eyes, wanting to kiss him all over again.

  “I can't believe all of that's over,” she said, sighing. “I mean, you're Alpha now, we can finally be together — a week ago I thought this was impossible.”

  He smiled slowly. “I didn't doubt us for a second,” he grinned.

  He continued to look at her, grinning, until finally her smile widened and she laughed, rolling down the window so she could feel the breeze against her face. His hand rested on her knee in its usual position. She loved it. She loved him. Thank god she was still alive.

  And thank god it was just the beginning.

  Epilogue

  Ron hung up the phone, a grin on his narrow face. He loved dealing with amateurs, they were so easy to intimidate. This one was a young woman who owed him a few thousand, small-time stuff but still worth hunting down and collecting. He'd send the boys after her tomorrow.

  With a sigh, he finished tallying and put his books away under the counter, glancing around his pawn shop – old junk and disposable valuables littered the shelves, most of it tagged for sale. Business was getting slow this time of year, as it usually did. There would be a big rush before Christmas, though – in the pawn and loan business, there always was.

  He opened a magazine and started flipping through it, but it seemed like no sooner had he found a picture of a hot babe that he heard the soft ding-ding of the front door.

  “We're closed!” he called, waiting for the customer to leave. He flipped to another page, and there was no other sign of life until a shadow abruptly fell over him. “What, are you fucking stupid?” he bit out. “I said we're-” He glanced up and the words died in his throat.

  Before him stood one of the most intimidating men he had ever seen. Six feet tall, wild black hair, dark sunglasses and a mean set to his lips. The man was well-built and obviously cut with muscle. He didn't miss the tattoos on his arms.

  “If you're here for a pick-up, you'll have to come back in the morning,” he squeaked, unable to look away.

  The stranger's lips twitched, and a moment later he reached over the counter and grabbed Ron's shirt, hauling him out of his chair and into the air. Ron let out a yelp of terror and reached for the pistol he kept hidden under his desk, but the man abruptly slammed a knife down into the counter's wood surface.

  “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” he hissed.

  Ron went still, though he couldn't stop his body from shaking. “W-what do you want?” he asked. He didn't recognize the man, and he knew most of the local gangs. This fellow wasn't familiar.

  “I want you to forget the name of Madeline Baker,” the man growled, and for a moment Ron fancied that he saw fangs. Fear raced down his spine and he thought he might just piss his pants. “Whatever her stepfather owes you, she is none of your concern. Is that clear?”

  Ron was trembling when he nodded. “Madeline Baker, no longer a name, got it,” he stuttered.

  “Good.” The man shoved him back down and Ron hit his chair hard, toppling over it until he landed on the ground. He leapt up immediately, reaching for his gun. He whirled around. It took a moment for his brain to process that the man had left.

  Ron slowly righted his chair and slumped into it, still shaking, running a hand through his greasy hair. He had seen a lot of thugs in this business, but something about this man had been exceptionally terrifying. There had been a dangerous energy about him, a wildness and an anger that was not to be messed with. Opening up his phone book, Ron found the page with Owen Baker's number on it and ripped it out, tearing it into tiny pieces before throwing it in the trash. He would send other people after Mr. Baker, but his daughter would be left alone.

  The knife sticking in his table ensured that.

  Sneak peek! Check out the next book in the series, Blood of the Wolf.

  Prologue: Blood of the Wolf

  Available now on Smashwords!

  All she ever loved was destroyed in the fire.

  It was a miracle that she survived. Only fourteen years old, her childhood had ended on that night. She could still see the flashing gold flames that leapt into the sky, licking at a sparkling backdrop of stars; she had been thrown on her back by the blast, tumbling across wet grass to skid to a halt at the base of a chain-link fence. Tears stung her eyes and her hands shook, red and burned by the flash of heat.

  She gazed, stunned, at the sight of the burning bodies. Dozens of people were running from the apartment complex, screaming and crying, sirens approaching in the background... but no sound registered in her ears. The fire burst from every floor of the building, and her parents were caught right in the middle of the inferno. She watched a burning body tumble from a window, black and cracked from the heat; she couldn't identify it. She was unable to turn away.

  It was a struggle to think but something inside of her took control, and she knew she had to get out of there – now. The explosion in the apartment hadn't been an accident. Jumping to her feet, Jaime turned and stumbled away, forcing her legs to move until she was flat out running. The air burned with smoke; each gasp was like breathing fire. Her chest ached. She threw an arm over her mouth and kept running, adrenaline pounding through her veins; her focus narrowed, her strength increased, and she fled into the night. For good reason, too – the explosion hadn't been an accident. Her family had been targeted – murdered – and they would come for her next.

  Her shoes slammed on the sidewalk. She was a good block away from her apartment complex when she suddenly heard the rev of an engine behind her. Her heart jolted sickeningly; up to that point she had been numb, as though running under water, but the harsh sound of the motorcycle snapped her back to reality. They were hunting her. They were chasing her down and planning on killing her, just as brutally as they had murdered her pack.

  “Dammit!” she cursed as a motorcycle rounded the corner behind her, skidding from the sharp turn. The rider was clad completely in leather, his features hidden behind a faceless black helmet. She couldn't make out anything more at the rate they were moving; she glanced up at the smoky sky and caught a glimpse of the moon. It was only half-full tonight. Changing into her werewolf form would be draining, but perhaps she could still use some of its power....

  Jaime focused and felt something stir slowly inside of her.... A sudden burst of energy flashed to her legs. Her muscles bulged and coiled. She lunged forward, faster than an Olympic runner, but she knew it was only a temporary fix. Under the half-moon, her energy would soon tire.

  A sudden howl rose up from behind her; her pursuers had sensed her. She glanced over her shoulder, enough to see that a pack of men had joined the motorcycle. They ran behind it, keeping pace with the bike, but never daring to pass their Alpha. They didn't carry any weapons because they didn't need them. She knew they were taunting her; if they really wanted to catch her, they could have by now... instead, they were enjoying the chase.

  Tears stung her eyes and Jaime bit her lip, forcing herself to remain in control. She had to be smart about this. As long as they hadn't caught her, there was still a chance to get away. She glanced sideways and saw a narrow alley leading to the next boulevard over. She took her chance, dodging down the shadowy corridor and leaping over a large dumpster that blocked her way. She forced herself to move faster and ignored the weariness in her arms and legs. Hopefully the obstacle would slow them down....

  No such
luck. She reached the next main street and glanced behind her, just in time to catch a flash of black paint as the bike leapt over the large trash bin, defying all sense of gravity. It landed smoothly on the other side and she could almost sense the Alpha smiling. The rest of the wolves followed; they were closing in, chasing her like a wounded deer.

  “Hey, little girl!” a voice called from her other side, and she turned, terrified. Another section of the pack was emptying into the street in front of her. They were cornering her in, trying to ambush her. She took off running in the opposite direction, narrowly dodging both groups and flying down the sidewalk. She pounded down the street amidst silent buildings, her fists clenched and sneakers scuffing.

  I'm going to die, she thought frantically, her panic slowly consuming her. It was getting harder to breathe. The growing roar of the motorcycle completely covered the now-distant whine of sirens. I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die....

  “Got you!” a voice grunted. Suddenly an arm whipped out and grabbed her around the waist. Jaime shrieked as she was yanked off of her feet and backwards, hauled through the air until she found herself forced onto the front of the motorcycle, its leather-clad rider harsh and unyielding. Her back slammed against his chest, lean and hard beneath the padding of his jacket. His arm was like steel and wrapped around her. She screamed, writhing in his grasp and ripping at him.

  “Let me go, you bastard! Let me the fuck go!” A string of curses left her mouth; she didn't care if any of it made sense. The bike skidded slightly as it weaved along the street, yet the rider did not lose control. She kicked, trying to hit the handle bars, her long dark hair flying in her face. She couldn't see anything but her rage was overwhelming. Her parents' killer now held her in his firm, capable hands.

  “Shit,” the man grunted, his voice deep; the cuss fit on his lips. “Sit still!”

  “Fuck off!” she shrieked, and wrestled even harder. He slowed the bike down and tried to grab her around the throat – she bit down firmly on his hand.

  “Dammit! Bitch!” This time when the bike swerved, Jaime took her chance. Without hesitation, she flung herself away from her captor despite the speed and the trailing pack. Her side clipped the handlebars and then she was free, flying through the air, slamming into the ground with more force than she could have prepared for. With a soundless oof the air was knocked out of her and she went skidding across the pavement, protecting her head with her arms but scraping her entire right side. Pain lashed through her, cutting through her ribs, burning over her skin as it ripped and tore. She finally came to a stop when she hit the base of a brick wall, and she lay there for a moment, broken and sobbing, pain making it almost impossible to breathe. She couldn't move. For a long moment, she couldn't even hear or see; she was sure something was broken. She could taste blood in her mouth.

  “Fucking bitch, where'd she go?” She heard voices shouting, then the distinct sound of frantic sniffing as her pursuers tried to catch her scent. Thankfully she knew that they were still close to her apartment and the smoke from the fire was clogging the air. It muddled everything, helped by the already thick scent of car oil and exhaust. They could smell her, but they couldn't pin her down, thank god.

  Wincing, she opened one eye; the other was fast swelling up. Somehow she managed to land behind a fairly concealing line of bushes. She peered out from them now, her head close to the ground. Not twenty feet away, a group of about two-dozen people were striding back and forth, their motions high-strung and tense. A few more arrived on the scene as she watched. She held her breath, trying not to make a sound, squinting against the harsh glow of the streetlights. It had to be almost midnight; she wondered what her chances were of them giving up. She looked around carefully after a few more seconds, but couldn't find any reasonable means of escape; if she made even the smallest move, it would alert the hunters.

  A pair of black boots strode onto the scene, immediately drawing her attention, and the rest of the group paused. She watched the boots cross the pavement and stand slightly separate from the others.

  “Crazy bitch jumped off your bike, Alpha,” a young man growled.

  “Quiet, Aiden,” that deep, rocky voice answered. Definitely a man's voice. It sent cold chills down her spine, and briefly she remembered the strong arm around her, the crush of that rock-hard chest. The hair rose on the back of her neck. Those boots began to walk again, this time slowly, casually wandering around the area. Jaime bit her lip. She wanted to pant and sob from the pain in her side and the blood she knew was seeping through her shirt, but she couldn't make a sound. It would mean her life.

  Those boots wandered frighteningly close – so close that she could see the scuff marks and rubber treads along the bottom.

  “I know you can hear me.” That voice again; there was something evil there, something deep and chilling. “You're probably wondering why you are still alive... I assure you, its not because you've escaped.”

  Jaime winced as her ribs complained sharply; the pain was getting worse by the second. Her adrenaline was slowly wearing off as her body grew exhausted. The boots stepped closer.

  “Your pack was going to be killed, anyway,” the man said. “Your parents knew this, your Alpha knew this... they just didn't know when. So they planned ahead. Your parents and I made a deal.”

  Right, and you killed them, you bastard! she wanted to scream. She was still having trouble with that concept: she was alone now. She had nowhere to go, no place to run or hide. Alone. They were all dead.

  The man let out a bark of a laugh; it was rough and taunting. “Do you know what that means, little wolf? I came here to get you. You're mine.”

  Jaime frowned and shook her head, trying to clear it. What was he saying? It didn't make any sense; her parents had given her to this man? They wouldn't! She wanted to scream, she wanted to pound the ground in frustration. No!

  And why would he even agree to spare her? He was a ruthless killer. She wasn't any more valuable than the next wolf – was she?

  The whole night had been one horrible shock after another. Jaime forced herself to stay focused, pressing herself lower to the ground, bearing the pain and holding her breath.

  “Your parents knew they were going to die,” he spoke again, repeating the words that made her heart pound. His tone was matter-of-fact. “They wanted to save their precious baby girl.... You do realize what has happened tonight, don't you?” A pause. “You're alone now. Be at my side and join my pack. Reclaim your territory. It's for the best, my dear. It's what your parents wanted.”

  Suddenly Jaime felt something snap inside of her. Her heart raced and abruptly she saw red. Rage rushed through her, pure and clean, washing away her pain and weakness. She felt her canine teeth lengthen and sharpen, pricking into her tongue; suddenly, all she could think about was sinking her teeth into his neck. She wanted to attack him, to rip and tear at him, to taste his blood.

  “Just think, kid,” another step in her direction. “What have you left to lose?”

  “You fucking bastard!” The roar ripped from her throat. She launched herself from the bushes, feeling her teeth lengthen in her mouth, her eyes flashing with pure rage. She flew through the air, one hand outstretched and nails lengthened – she was going to claw the fucker. She was going to gash his eyes out, rip him open, feel the flesh beneath her fingers....

  He caught her mid-air, easily. Hand outstretched, he somehow bypassed her sharpened nails and snatched her by the throat, gripping her firmly with a rough laugh. She shrieked in anger, thrashing and biting, clawing at him, trying to hurt him in any way possible – but he continued to hold her by the neck, hefting her up into the air until her feet couldn't even touch the ground. She was choking; she couldn't breathe. Fuck, she couldn't breathe!

  He held her like that as her struggles became weaker and weaker, and the bloodlust faded from her eyes. They had turned an electrified yellow, but slowly dulled back down to an average hazel-brown. He studied her, staring at her face
as she calmed, until finally she could stare back at him with coherent thought. She couldn't see him fully, since only the visor of his helmet was raised, but she could clearly see his pale, intense eyes. There was a keenness in his expression that spoke of acute intelligence.

  “There, now,” he said quietly, once she had fully recovered from her outburst. “Found you.”

  She spat at him, snarling, but he laughed and shook her slightly. “Enough of that, little wolf. I will let you go soon enough.... I just wanted to get a good look at the one who will serve as my mate.”

  “Never!” she growled, though it was hard to push the words past the hand at her throat.

  “It's too late for that, my dear,” he murmured again, and a cold grin passed over his face. “Your parents begged me to take you, and I gave my word. Werewolf law cannot be broken in these things... but I suppose you are too young to understand that yet.” He leaned his face close, so close that she could catch a whiff of his cologne, bringing his presence sharply into focus. “You're mine. You do realize you don't have a choice – right?”

  “I fucking hate you!” she wheezed, kicking her legs out at him though she was so weak she could barely move. “I'll kill you!”

  He laughed again; it grated across her skin, as painful as the asphalt had been. “I would expect nothing less from my future mate,” he grinned. Then abruptly his expression changed, and the coldness she saw sent fear skittering through her. “And you will be my mate. You cannot escape me, no matter how far you run.”

  Jaime would have said something, but at that moment he raised his helmet and pressed his mouth against hers—the kiss was demanding, harsh, taking her mouth and not asking questions. His lips controlled her, parting her easily as his tongue entered. Jaime wanted to bite it off – but somehow she couldn't. She was frozen to the spot, shocked, utterly confused at the strange and exciting emotions that swept over her. The heat settled in her belly like a wild thing.