He didn’t try to mask his approach. Bursting through the underbrush, he came to a stop and watched the intruders. He sneezed, irritated that they smelled wary but not afraid. They should be afraid. A vague sense of memory nagged him, but he pushed it aside as he assessed the threat. A mix of strength and power. He growled, long and low, warning them off. One chance was all he was willing to give.
Myra had dreamed of her husband last night. Not the nightmare she’d had many times over the years, that moment when her soul had shattered and she’d dropped to her knees while making breakfast, certain in the knowledge that her mate was dead. No, she’d dreamed about the first time they’d met. Eric had been on vacation, passing through St. Louis on a long road trip with a couple of his buddies after they’d graduated college. The trio had stopped in to pay their respects to the alpha, her father. Myra had still had a year left in school herself, so he’d moved to her pack, insisting he could be a police officer in any major city but it would be silly for her to transfer colleges when she was so close to being done.
Of course, there hadn’t been any question that they would be together. They were werewolves, and they’d known within minutes of meeting each other that they belonged together. Well, maybe she’d had a little nervous doubt, a wondering if it was just wishful thinking that the handsome young man wanted her. But he’d been just as excited, and just as eager to be sure. He’d gotten them a room at a fancy hotel and made long, sweet love to her. They’d bonded, and she thought she’d never be happier in her life. Then he’d fucked her senseless and she’d realized she didn’t know from happy yet. And she’d been right. Every day they were together was just better and better.
She looked out the car window, suppressing a sigh, thankful that Michael was respecting her need for quiet. It was rare for her to think so much about Eric anymore. Which almost felt like a betrayal. For the first hours, she’d been nearly catatonic. For the first days, completely inconsolable. For the first months, she’d been withdrawn, trying to convince her heart that it was important to keep on beating, to keep making it through, day by day. The first years she’d not gone a day, an hour, without thinking about him.
Finally, after four years, she’d seen the sadness she felt every day mirrored in an older wolf, a widower. They’d had sex with the full knowledge that each was thinking of another, each was wishing they were with someone else. She’d cried afterward and the man had held her until they’d both fallen asleep. He’d been gone by the time she’d woken.
There’d been others through the years, each time less painful than the last.
Shaking off the memories, she concentrated on the here and now. Adam deserved her full attention. Focusing, she actually looked out the window she’d been staring through for half an hour, since their conversation had stilled and she’d had the opportunity to remember her dream. She’d been to many forests in the United States, all beautiful. She never tired of their differences, just as she always enjoyed their similarities. Michael pulled the truck into a narrow turnoff and glanced at her. When she smiled, he offered one in return and they got out, walked into the woods, their pace brisk but nearly silent.
It was different, walking in the woods in her human form. And not something she did very often. This was the wolf’s territory, her realm. But it was important to appear as nonthreatening as possible to Adam. Not that she couldn’t hold her own in this form or change with a speed that only the most powerful werewolves could accomplish. He might know that, but would still understand that she was intentionally being non-aggressive.
An uneasy silence descended and she came to a stop, Michael at her side. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening, scenting. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and the loam blanketing the forest. Something had disturbed the wildlife, and she didn’t think it was them. One look at Michael confirmed that he shared her uneasiness. He unbuttoned his flannel shirt and made sure his sneakers were loose.
Michael pointed north. “The meeting point is about half a mile that way.”
She nodded, but in silent agreement they headed east, where their senses were pointing them.
It wasn’t long before the unmistakable sounds of an approaching predator, who didn’t care if he was detected, brought them to a halt. Myra stood still and waited while Michael kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants. He’d just pulled his shirt off when the huge black wolf skidded into view and sneezed. Somehow the action in no way diminished the danger the wolf presented. He watched them warily, waiting for their response.
Myra sent out a wave of power, along with some calm, toward him. He responded with raised hackles and crouched for attack.
She gave Michael a nod, knowing he was waiting for her signal before turning. The power of the change prickled over her skin, but her attention was on the wolf in front of her. He made a tiny movement that signaled attack, so she pushed a stronger wave of power at him, and a single word, “Stop.”
His growls increased and she could feel the rage slashing through the air between them, but he didn’t move. His body fairly vibrated in his attempt to push through her command. She backed it up with more power, more strength as she held a hand out to her side, signaling for Michael to keep his position. He huffed in agitation but held firm.
Adam—she was sure it was Adam, there couldn’t possibly be another alpha werewolf around without their knowledge—was struggling against her hold. “Stand down.” Her most dominating voice, along with another swell of power, had an effect, but not as strong as it should have. She reached out with her senses, trying to understand what was happening.
Sick. There was a slight smell, but more it was the psychic feel of him that was off. Just like Michael had described, only this time, instead of an average member of the pack, the infected wolf was a strong alpha. His eyes were wild, his breathing harsh and she didn’t think he even recognized Michael. Not good. She needed to end this, and she needed to do so quickly.
Myra reached inside herself, finding the connections she had with the strongest pack alphas she knew. Tapping into the bonds, she pulled, letting their combined powers wash through her. It wasn’t something she’d ever tried to do, but she had no choice. The longer she challenged the wolf, the more he resisted submitting to her, the more dangerous the situation.
She pushed out, taking a step forward, Michael at her side giving a low whine as he felt the periphery of the power she sent forth. The black wolf gave one long, continuous growl, but was unable to move against them. His fury beat at her but it was the spark of fear that nearly rattled her. He wasn’t afraid ofher. He wasn’t afraid of dying or being hurt. He was afraid of being dominated, compelled to do something that he didn’t want to do. And she had no choice but to force his submission.
Her heart ached but her power remained steady. She took another step forward. He tried to retreat, but couldn’t even do that. The closer she got, the stronger his growls, until he was shaking with them. She tried to connect with him, tried to find the man within, might have been able to if he were a wolf she had a bond with. Meeting his gaze full on, she pulled on the power again, held it tightly around herself as she lowered to her knees at his side.
His growls turned to whines and he didn’t move a muscle. She reached a hand out and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling sharply to emphasize her domination. His entire body went slack and his eyes closed. His breathing was still harsh but she felt his fear receding in the face of his capitulation. It had been a long time since she’d felt that herself, the utter relief of finally giving in to someone of greater power. He tilted his head slightly, careful not to dislodge her hand but offering his neck.
She used the power she was holding, refocusing it. “Turn, now.”
A massive shudder racked his strong body. She stroked down his back as the hair began to recede and the man came forth. He cried out, and she used the connection she was slowly building to ease some of the pain that the sickness must be causing. A forced change would never be comfortable, but it shouldn’t be hurting him.
Fully changed, he was on his knees in front of her, his braced arms shaking. He watched her from light brown eyes that were dull with pain and confusion. She moved her hand up his muscled back and gave a gentle tug toward her.
He collapsed into her and passed out.
She pushed the sweaty hair back from his forehead as Michael changed next to her. The other man moved slowly back to his clothes and returned while tugging on his shirt, clearly tired from the back-and-forth shifting.
“He has a fever,” she said. “I’m having a hard time connecting with him.”
Michael knelt down beside them and reached a hand out to the sleeping man’s side. Touch was important to werewolves, and an alpha was compelled to take care of the weaker, the sick, even if they weren’t his pack. Adam shifted restlessly under the other man’s touch, though, and Michael pulled back.
“That’s what my wolves felt like, hot and impossible to connect with.” He nodded back the way they’d come. “I have some extra sweatpants in my truck.”
“You said the pack doctor wasn’t able to do anything other than treat the fever, right? You have any Tylenol in your first-aid kit?”
