Midnight Reckoning

Damien regarded him for a moment with something like pity in those cold eyes. Then he spoke, slowly and calmly, betraying no emotion at all.



“Drake wanted to tell you that you should be careful who you trust. That friends among the dynasties are rarely what they seem, and that no one, particularly your new… associates… ever does anything unless they know they will have the advantage. An offer of power is usually just an offer to be someone’s puppet… or a glorified slave. If you want your pack to survive intact, you’ll walk away.”



The wolf’s laugh was a short, sharp bark. “Are you joking? Maybe Drake is just concerned that the wolves are going to end up with more power and clout than his pissant little operation. And you know what? He’s right. So you can tell him where to shove his advice. With my thanks, of course.”



Damien hissed out a breath, narrowing his eyes. “That’s exactly the response I told him he would get. Still, he wanted to try. I suppose he’s sorry you didn’t work out. There’s always something to be said for dumb muscle and a willingness to eat the opposition.”



The wolf smiled, deliberately showing his sharpened teeth. “You remember that you said that, cat. Remember it when your kind are all hiding in shadows, afraid of the big bad wolves. I know your scent, and I’ll remember it when the time comes.”



Damien didn’t look intimidated in the least, and that, more than anything else, infuriated him. He was so sick of his kind being counted out, looked down upon. Finally, he had been sought out by creatures that could change all that. And they—she—would have his undying loyalty, and that of his pack. Once they understood what was at stake, that was. Which would happen soon.



“So predictable,” Damien said. “So full of yourself. When someone puts a bounty on your foolish, furry head, I’ll be first in line to take the job. It won’t be long. You’re too stupid to last. I doubt you’ll even live to see your people in chains. Pity.”



“You worthless ball of fur, why don’t we settle this now if you’re so eager to try and take me out?”



Damien laughed softly, a mocking sound drifting through the quiet night. “Because I only kill for money. And there’ll be quite a bit to make if I wait.”



With a hoarse snarl, he leaped at Damien, his form shifting in midair to become that of an enormous, muscular wolf. Bloodlust hazed his vision along with his anger, welling up from a source that never seemed to run dry. He had been made to hunt, to kill. Why fight it? Why, when he dreamed of tearing into flesh with his claws and feasting as the wolves had long ago.



But when he hit the ground, slashing out with his front claws, there was nothing but air and the hard, unforgiving earth. The wolf gave a loud grunt as the air rushed from his lungs, then lay there for a moment, panting with helpless fury and confusion. Gone. How?



Didn’t matter, he decided. When the time came to begin the hunt, Damien Tremaine was first on his list. The mark of the cat would be washed away in a sea of blood. And he would stand at the head of the first wolf pack in centuries that would be truly respected, truly feared, by the rest of the world of night.



Slowly, he got to his feet, already knowing what he needed to do. He was the future Alpha of the Pack of the Thorn. He wouldn’t just be shunted aside, no matter what Damien said.



The thought soothed him, and he quickened his pace again, ready to run beneath the waning moon.



To be free.



Chapter TWELVE



THE MAN WAS a sadist.



Lyra sat in her car, staring at the Shopway and wondering whether her legs would actually get her in and out of there. She hurt. Everywhere. In places she hadn’t even been aware she had muscles. And tonight, after nearly a week of continuous torment, she and her aching muscles were going to go to that damn field and do it all again.



Another week of this and she’d be dead. Or lurching around like Quasimodo.



Pretty sad, when he was only barely sparring with her yet. Then again, she was a wolf, which she kept trying to explain to him. Flipping through the air and slashing gracefully was not exactly her kind’s stock in trade. Barrel rolling people and mauling them… that she could handle with her eyes closed.



Now she remembered why she’d been a ballet dropout.



She took a moment to enjoy the way the light had turned reddish gold as the sun began its long descent behind the Shopway. Then she groaned when she remembered what that sky meant. Jaden would be awake in a couple of hours. And the house would still be devoid of fuel for her abused body. Maybe she could hide out here tonight, huddled in the junk food aisle, munching. He’d never find her…



A rap at the window made her jump and let out an embarrassing squeak. Fortunately, the face she saw when she turned her head was friendly, if amused, and very familiar. Still uncertain enough of her throbbing legs that she didn’t want to get out of the car, Lyra rolled down the window.



“Hey, Gerry. What’s up?”



Gerry McFarlane grinned in at her, blue eyes twinkling. The stout, barrel-chested wolf was ostensibly the police chief in Silver Falls and in practice the head of the Thorn’s guard. He was also one of her father’s closest friends, and he never missed an opportunity to tease her.



Like now.



“I don’t usually see you just sitting with your mind in outer space. I couldn’t resist.” He chuckled. “Hiding from your hostessing duties, I presume?”



Lyra laughed ruefully. She’d taken enough ribbing over having to entertain the Falls’ newest visitor this week. The only good thing was that it provided her ample opportunity to demonstrate that she was most certainly not enamored of the handsome vampire in town. It was also a good way to try to convince herself of the same thing.



“Yeah, you could say that,” she said with a wry smile. “He’s all right, though, really. Nice… for a vamp.”



That much, Lyra thought, was true, if odd. Being hot for him was one thing. Discovering she actually liked the guy was something else entirely. It warranted caution on her part, which was why she hadn’t laid a finger on him since that very appealing offer.



Every time she got too close, she heard warning bells.



“Well, he bought a little goodwill at the Inn the other night, I’ll give him that,” Gerry replied. “And he’s kept his fangs to himself. That’s a start, even though I still can’t figure out why his people would pick us out and try to make nice.”



Lyra shrugged uncomfortably. That was one thing she hated about all of this—the lying to people who were her friends. Three more weeks of this and she’d be dying of guilt.



“We’re well respected among our kind,” Lyra said. “Why not us?”



“Well,” Gerry said, leaning companionably against the car as he settled in for a chat, “we’ve bitched and moaned about being marginalized for long enough that actually getting some positive attention just feels odd. But who am I to question it, as long as the vamp behaves himself?”



“Jaden,” Lyra reminded him. It bothered her to hear him referred to as a what and not a who. Gerry’s brows lifted a little, but he nodded.



“Right. Jaden. Of course, your cousin isn’t big on this whole idea.”



Lyra angled her head to look up at Gerry. “No way. Really?” Gerry chuckled.



“Yeah. Well, he’s at least not crazy about this specific vampire,” he qualified, and Lyra couldn’t help a smirk. No, after the other night, she was sure Eric wasn’t big on this specific vampire.



“You’re spending time with him. I’ve never exchanged pleasantries with a vamp myself. What’s your take on it?”



Lyra flushed with pleasure. She might have known Gerry forever, and he was fond of picking her brains over things. But being asked about something so important when Eric, the presumptive heir, had already given his word from on high, felt… well, pretty good.



“I think it might be a good idea to re-engage, myself,” Lyra said slowly, considering her response as she gave it. In truth, it had been on her mind as well. Jaden might not have seriously offered an alignment with his dynasty, but it had occurred to her that if she herself extended a hand to Lily it might not be simply dismissed. Especially because Lily had been human not long ago and wasn’t carrying all the vampire-werewolf baggage the rest of them were.



It might work. And for all the wolves like herself and Simon, who had yearned to be able to broaden their horizons outside of werewolf territory, it could be a godsend.



“It would have to be the right dynasty, though,” Lyra continued. “Jaden’s dynasty is so young that I think it provides the best opportunity for us. The wolves have no history with them. They’re building something new, and we could be a part of that.” When she saw the way Gerry was looking at her, she had to smile. “I’m going to guess that Eric’s take on it is nothing like mine.”



“Ah, well, you know your cousin. Tradition and upholding pack law. He says he doesn’t know what they’d want with us anyway, that the price might be too high. That would be my worry. We’ve warred with them all. I’d think that puts us at a disadvantage right off the bat, but…” He trailed off, then shrugged. “Well, we’ll see which of you gets to help make the decision, I guess. Whoever it is, I know Dorien will listen.”



The casual compliment touched Lyra. Part of her wanted to hop out of the car and give Gerry a hug, just for speaking of her as an equal, and viable, candidate. It had never happened to her before. And she hadn’t realized until just now how much such a simple thing would mean to her.



“My father’s a smart man, and a good Alpha,” Lyra said. “I’m sure he will listen.”



Gerry grinned and touched a finger to the tip of her nose, the affectionate gesture taking her back to being an adoring five-year-old. The memory of such a pleasant, simple time made her heart ache, just a little.



“You’ve got a lot of him in you. I’ve always said it. Only Dorien Black’s daughter could have a vampire eating out of the palm of her hand.”