Sidestepping the bloody mess he’d made, Alex turned and headed for the far metal door again, only to have to stop as the elevator doors about halfway down the corridor opened with a ding and a clank of metal.
Alex recognized the scent before the guy even stepped out of the elevator. It was the man who’d cut the throats of the dogs he and Lacey had found.
When the man finally stepped into view, pistol in hand, Alex wasn’t shocked to see that it was Pendergraff. In all the times Alex had encountered the man, he had never caught his scent. Now that he had, it didn’t surprise him in the least that the man was a dog-killing piece of shit.
As Alex moved toward Pendergraff, he realized the man had another scent on him besides his own—Lacey’s blood.
Snarling in rage, Alex sprinted toward Pendergraff.
The man didn’t run but instead started shooting at Alex. Bullets ripped through his body, but he was too mad to pay any attention to them. He lunged for Pendergraff’s throat, not caring how many times he was hit.
Pendergraff threw his free arm up in front of his face to protect his throat, leaving Alex no choice but to clamp on that. He bit down until bones crunched, but Pendergraff didn’t even make a sound. Instead, he moved his gun until it was pressed against Alex’s chest, then squeezed the trigger. Alex howled in pain, releasing Pendergraff’s arm.
The world started to go black, and for a moment, Alex was sure the man had just put a bullet through his heart. Werewolves could absorb a lot of damage, but a bullet through the heart would kill any of them, and it didn’t have to be a silver one.
Pendergraff smiled up at him, as if he enjoyed hearing Alex’s grunts of pain. Just thinking of what this sick, sadistic bastard might have done to Lacey—and what he would certainly do to her if Alex didn’t finish this—was all the motivation Alex needed to drive back the wave of unconsciousness threatening to overwhelm him. Growling through the pain in his chest, he lunged for Pendergraff’s throat while the man was busy gloating.
Eyes widening, Pendergraff cried out in terror, but that lasted for only a gurgling second as Alex closed his jaws over the man’s throat and bit down, shaking from side to side to make sure the asshole never hurt another woman—or dog—again. Considering Pendergraff’s crimes, the punishment seemed to fit.
Leaping over the man’s still body, Alex charged for the steel door at the end of the hall. He slammed his shoulder into it at full speed, even though the impact almost made him black out again. The door completely tore off its hinges and slammed to the floor, sliding several feet with him on top of it.
The room was dark, but Alex had no problem seeing that it was some kind of a medical supply room with metal racks full of boxes and bottles. Lacey stood in the middle of the room, her eyes wide, a long metal rod from an IV stand held firmly in her hands.
Alex’s heart almost seized up at the sight of her. Not just because she was alive and well, or even because she was so beautiful, it took his breath away, but because she was standing there holding a makeshift weapon, ready to beat the first person who walked in the door. She was amazing.
Then the heavy scent of her blood hit him, and he realized that there was a lot of it matting the hair on the right side of her head. So much that some had flowed down and soaked the shoulder of her shirt.
He took a step toward her, only to stop when her eyes widened to the size of teacups. That was when he remembered he was still a frigging wolf. He was freaking her out.
All he wanted to do right then was run over and hold her and never let go, but he couldn’t.
“Alex?” she asked slowly, taking a tentative step forward.
He tried to make the most nonthreatening sound he could, but it came out as a guttural chuff.
She moved another step closer and reached out her hand. He found himself moving to meet her without thinking if he should.
Lacey threw her makeshift weapon to the floor with a clatter, running the last few feet between them to drop to her knees in front of him and wrap her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face into his neck. Then she started to cry, great wracking sobs that tore through him like another bullet to the chest.
Emotions surged through Alex, deeper and more powerful than anything he’d ever felt in his life. The realization of just how frigging much he loved her couldn’t have been any more obvious to him if it had been spelled out in neon. He knew that Lacey probably wouldn’t ever get to a place where she felt the same, but right then, all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and squeeze her tightly.
That was a little tough to do in his current form, but as he stood there leaning into her hug, imagining what it would feel like to wrap his arms around her again, he felt the shift come over him.
Lacey stumbled back and fell on her butt when the first spasm hit his muscles. Then she sat there wide-eyed as his bones cracked and twisted back into a human shape.
Maybe it was just his imagination, but it didn’t seem like the shift was quite as traumatic going in this direction. It definitely didn’t hurt as much.
The moment the shift was done and Alex was kneeling there on the floor, naked on his hands and knees, Lacey grabbed him again and threw her arms around his shoulders. She squeezed him tightly, and it felt even better now than it had before. He knew it was all about her being grateful he’d come to save her and her sister, but it still felt good anyway.
Almost immediately, she pulled back and started to say something. Then she stared at his chest in wide-eyed shock. “Oh God! You’re bleeding!”
He looked down and realized Lacey was right. He had four holes in his chest—one damn near his heart, two in the left shoulder, and one along the right side of his rib cage. He was a bloody mess.
Fortunately, all but one of those shots had punched right through him. While none of them felt very good, a werewolf’s body could heal almost any wound as long as the bullet wasn’t still in there. The bullet stuck in his shoulder hurt the worst. He’d need to get in there and dig the thing out before it could clot up and stop bleeding. But for right now, he was content to just hold Lacey.
“I’ll be fine,” he whispered softly as he looked around for Kelsey. The sooner they got out of here, the better their chances were of not being caught by the police when they responded to all these shots being fired. He would have one hell of a time explaining what he was doing here all bloody—and naked—with a clinic full of ripped-up thugs and security guards.
But it was as he was looking around the shadows of the small storage room that he realized he couldn’t pick up Kelsey’s scent anywhere. He might not be in his wolf form now, but he should still be able to smell her.
