Her Alphas (8 page)

Gwen repositioned the amulet so one long side of the
triangle was flat against her palm. She pressed her fingertips tightly against
the silver until the point extended just beyond the heel of her hand. With an
animalistic growl, she thrust forward and buried the tip deep into one flashing
emerald iris.

Hot fluid spurted from Jenny’s eye socket and sprayed Gwen’s
bruised wrist. The beast wailed and flung herself onto the cold ground. While
the screeching werewolf clawed at her face, Gwen scrambled on all fours toward
the cave entrance, still clutching the gore-covered amulet.

If you’re in the confines of the cave—and you’re wearing
the necklace—nothing can harm you
.

Pain radiated from so many individual points, it was as if
Gwen’s entire body throbbed with each beat of her heart. Fighting to remain
conscious and keep moving forward, Gwen reached out for the bush and yanked
aside low branch. Summoning up the last of her strength, she stretched out her
arm.

The amulet was within an inch of the entrance to the sacred
cave when a fresh agony ripped through her body. Jenny was upon her and had
sunk her vicious fangs into Gwen’s calf. Gwen screamed as the flesh was torn
from her leg.

Jenny took another bite—this time digging into Gwen’s
hamstring—and began yanking her prey away from the cave.

This is how I’m going to die,
Gwen thought. As soon
as the notion entered her mind, she amended it.
If
this is how she was
going to die, she was going to do everything in her power to take that hippie
bitch down with her.

Gwen twisted and struck out with the amulet but couldn’t
find her mark. The strength seemed to drain from her body with every swing.
Believing she had only one shot left before she passed out, Gwen dug deep and
pulled back her arm for a final strike. Before she could bring down her hand,
Jenny repositioned herself and bit hard on Gwen’s inner thigh.

The gush of blood was unmistakable. Gwen knew her femoral
artery had been punctured and it was only a matter of time before she bled to
death. As the life force drained from Gwen, her mouth went dry. She went limp
as Jenny dragged her toward the tree line.

The last thing Gwen registered before she slipped into
unconsciousness was the flash of velvety golden-brown fur and the roar of the
big cat as he burst from the underbrush and pulled the werewolf from her body.

Alex knotted the last stitch in Gwen’s leg then tossed his
bloody gloves into the trashcan. He had worked throughout the night and the
first weak rays of dawn were lightening the sky.

Sergei had been pacing out in the vet clinic hall, muttering
in Russian and running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. He wore
borrowed hospital scrubs and the hem of the pants barely covered the giant’s
calves. On each pass by the door, he’d glanced at the table where Gwen lay.

While Alex had sutured her wounds Tommy Longtree and
Jeremiah Morgan had employed every remedy their individual traditions afforded.
The werewolf shaman had circled the operating room, loudly reciting an
incantation that sounded like Latin. He would pause occasionally to draw herbs
from his pockets and lay them on Gwen’s chest.

Tommy sat on a rolling stool at the head of the table
hunched over the unconscious human consort with a palm flattened against each
of Gwen’s temples. His eyes were closed and he was muttering a prayer so softly
that Alex couldn’t make out the words.

Alex took a deep breath to clear away the crushing fatigue.
He added a dose of antibiotics to Gwen’s IV, arched his back to work out the
knots, then stared down at his unconscious mate.

The first time she’d been on this table, he had been
X-raying her sprained ankle after the cougar—after
Tommy
—had ambushed
her. Back then, Alex had been so turned on by her scent that it had taken all
of his willpower to control his urges. That day—and those feelings—suddenly
seemed like a fading dream.

Alex found a post-op warming blanket in one of the cabinets
beside the operating table and spread it out over his patient. Wrapping his
fingers around her wrist as if checking her pulse, he waited for the familiar
tug of longing he always felt when they touched. Its absence was jarring.

Gently placing Gwen’s hand back on the table, Alex rubbed
his forehead. He tried to convince himself that the stress of the situation was
short-circuiting his emotions, but he feared it was something more permanent.
It seemed that the instant Jenny had sunk her teeth into Gwen, everything had
changed.

The best he could hope for was that this change in his
feelings for Gwen was some sort of purgatory—a limbo between her life as a
human and that as a werewolf. Perhaps the old feelings would rekindle once
she’d been inducted into the pack.

On his next pass, Sergei sheepishly poked his head in the
room. “How bad is it?”

Despite the gravity of the situation, the alpha held no
anger toward his predecessor. Sergei couldn’t be held responsible for the
actions of his mate and Alex felt that he owed him a straight answer. “Bad,” he
said simply.

Sergei slumped against the doorjamb. “Will she die?” he
asked.

“No, but she’s going to have a tough go of it. If Tommy hadn’t—”

Clearing his throat he looked back at Sergei. “It could have
been worse.”

Jeremiah rose and crossed to the operating room sink. He had
refused gloves and when he held his hands under the faucet, the water turned
pink with Gwen’s blood. Meeting Alex then Sergei’s gaze in turn he jerked his
head for them to follow. The three men left Tommy to his healing and walked
down the hall to the employee lunchroom.

Alex rooted around in the cupboard above the break-room
fridge and found a bottle of whiskey. He snagged three stained coffee mugs from
the dish drainer and joined the other two men at the laminate table. They each
took a shot and waited for refills before anyone spoke.

Jeremiah was the first to break the silence. “Are you
certain the attack took place
after
moon rise?”

Alex pulled his cellphone from his pocket, brought up the
call log and tapped the time-stamped entry beside Gwen’s name. “Positive,” he
said.

The shaman glanced at the screen then nodded. “Well, that’s
a break. She won’t shift until the next lunar cycle. It will give her time to
heal.”

“And?” Alex prodded.

“And give us time to find someone to take her place as human
consort. But, Alex, we’ve got to be realistic. We’re probably going to have to
borrow someone from another pack or even transport her to another enclave. It’s
not very likely that she’s going to meet her first moon in our sacred cave.”

“Oh shit!” Alex blurted then slapped his hand against his
forehead. “Charlie Kerrigan is still locked up in the fledgling cell.”

Alex scrolled through his contact list and selected Tiny
Wainwright’s number. The pack’s tattoo artist not only lived nearest the sacred
cave, he was also one of the most levelheaded wolves Alex had ever met. He
answered on the first ring and listened silently to Alex’s instructions. Tiny was
to grab Gwen’s keys from the book basket beside her chair, release Charlie, get
him something to eat, then keep an eye on him and await further instructions.

“Looks like we don’t have a full cycle to find a temporary
consort,” Alex said.

While Sergei and Jeremiah looked on, Alex made calls. The
alphas from two neighboring packs said their consorts were already tied up with
fledglings.

A third insisted that he’d be happy to help, but his human had
gone on a bender when he realized their cell would be empty this cycle and was
currently sleeping it off in the drunk tank. If they could bring Charlie there,
their consort should be sobered up before nightfall.

Alex ended the connection. “Looks like somebody’s going to
have to drive Charlie over to the town of Jefferson. I need to stay here and
tend to our patient.”

“May I?” Sergei offered.

Alex shrugged. “Be my guest.”

Sergei pulled out his phone and punched in a number. When
the call was answered he spoke in Russian. Alex only recognized
da
as “yes”
and
dasvidania
as “goodbye”.

“It is done,” Sergei said. “The pack just over the Canadian
border has a consort available. He will be here by two this afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Alex said.

“This is the least I can do. The alpha is from a village
near where I grew up. Many years ago, I was able to help him with a similar
problem. He is happy to satisfy that debt.”

Alex reached out and clasped Sergei’s shoulder. He was
certain the big man knew the gesture was more than one of thanks. There was
another pressing matter that had to be discussed.

Sergei held his gaze for a moment then tilted back his
massive head and stared at the ceiling. Fat tears rolled down his face. Alex
and Jeremiah averted their eyes and shared another round while Sergei composed
himself.

Finally, Sergei cleared his throat then dried his face on
his sleeve. “Alex,” he said quietly, “you have been a good and fair alpha. You
spared my life when it was well within your rights to take it from me. I know
that many did not agree with your decision, and I am grateful for it every
day.”

Alex drew in a breath and opened his mouth to speak, but
Sergei held up his hand. “Please, Alex, let me finish. Though I was in no
position to ask you for more when you’d already given to me so much, you
granted me my…mate.”

Sergei’s voice cracked when he said “mate” and he seemed to
struggle to continue. “I know the law. What she has done cannot be forgiven,
not even by the most generous alpha. I understand what must be done. But, Alex,
please…”

Wrapping his massive hand around Alex’s wrist, Sergei
pleaded with his dark, deep-set eyes. “Please do not throw her to the pack to
be ripped apart. Let me take care of this. I ask this mercy not for Jenny. I
ask it for myself.”

It took Alex a moment before he could trust his voice.
Finally he nodded and patted Sergei’s corded forearm. “Granted. But it has to
be done now. Once the pack gets wind of what she did, they’re going to be out
for blood.”

* * * * *

Sergei stood beside the shaman outside the windowless metal
storage shed and watched Alex fiddle with the padlock. He would rather have
done this alone, but the law clearly stated that at least two witnesses were
required. The pack master was already bending the rules by allowing Sergei to
mete out Jenny’s punishment, rather than throw her to the pack to die slowly.
He supposed he should be grateful.

Even over Jenny’s wailing and pounding on the steel walls,
the click of the key turning in the lock echoed in Sergei’s mind. Alex kept the
curved shank looped through the door hasp as he turned and stared at Sergei.
You
know what has to be done?

Sergei nodded. Yes, he knew what had to be done. He had been
enforcing pack law long before Alex had come to Talbot. All he could hope for was
the courage to act swiftly and minimize Jenny’s pain.

Alex lifted the lock and yanked open the door. Jenny grew
quiet. Sergei widened his stance, ready to snare her if she tried to flee. The
three men stood staring into the open shed. Sergei had almost let down his
guard when the naked little blonde burst from her corrugated-metal prison and
launched herself into the big Russian’s arms.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and buried her face
in his neck. “I’m so sorry, baby. I don’t know why I did it. I need help. I’ll
do whatever you say. Is she okay? Will she live?”

Her matted hair reeked of oil and sweat and her skin was
streaked with blood and dirt. Sergei peeled her from his body and set her down
on her feet in front of him. He winced when he looked down into her
once-beautiful face. A raw and ragged wound gaped where her left eye had been.

Jenny must have read his disgust and quickly covered the
injury. “Is it bad? Am I ugly?” she whispered.

Sergei’s heart broke at the despair in her voice. Yet
somehow, it made his task easier. Someone as vain as she would rather die than
go through life like that. This wound had been made with the sacred amulet and
would never heal. For as long as she lived, it would be an ugly reminder of her
crime.

He brushed the snarled hair from her face then laid a hand
on each side of her head. “No, little one. You will always be young and
beautiful.”

She smiled up at him and the dried blood—
Gwen’s
dried
blood—that had caked at the corners of her mouth cracked and flaked. “Thank
you, baby,” she said.

Sergei bent, kissed her temple, then straightened again.
“Always beautiful,” he muttered.

Jenny was still smiling when he tightened his grip at her
temples and ripped off her head with a mighty twist.

* * * * *

After the three wolves had left, Tommy Longtree remained at
the head of the operating table, leaning over Gwen with his palms pressed to her
temples. Her fever radiated through his hands, up his arms and throughout his
body.

Release the fire of sickness into me. Let me bear your
burden that you will be healed.
His chant was a language unto itself—influenced
by more than a dozen North American Indian tribes.

Tommy—and his ancestors—had traveled throughout the country
for centuries. Compared to their animal kindred, the mountain lion shifters were
more social creatures. Though the Cat People still preferred their solitude, they
would often feel the pull of a group. This instinct was necessary to keep their
gene pool varied and strong.

For nearly four hundred years, Tommy had roamed the
mountains and plains east of the Mississippi and—with the exception of Talbot—he’d
never stayed in once place for more than a generation. He’d fathered countless
cubs but had rarely stayed around long enough to see them mature.

In every one of his “homes” Tommy had had to interact with
the Moon People. Both groups were supernatural beings, but that was where the
similarities ended. True shifters had roamed the earth since the dawn of time.
The wolf-men were a much newer phenomenon. Werewolves could be made through a
bite—or in Alex’s case, a potion and spell. Cat shifters could only be born
through the union of two. Mating with Cat Women was his obligation. Fucking
human females was his pleasure.

Though a union with a mortal woman could not produce
offspring, nothing under the sky turned him on more. He couldn’t be sure if it was
their innocence or their humanity that captivated him, but the attraction was
real—and undeniable. He was still young when ships began bringing new and
exotic partners from around the world. Women with skin as dark as mahogany or
hair the color of corn silk had shared his bed and he’d enjoyed sampling them
all. And yet with each new encounter, he felt he was still searching.

Over the past ninety-some years, Tommy had told himself he had
remained in Talbot because it was still wild and unsettled and the hunting was
good. But deep in his bones, he knew there was something more tying him to this
cold corner of northern Minnesota. He was stuck in this place because he was
waiting for his destiny. He was waiting for Gwen Chaney.

Tommy stroked the sides of Gwen’s face.
Release the fire
of sickness into me. Let me bear your burden that you will be healed.

He’d known from the first moment he laid eyes on her that
she was meant to be his. Following the ominous dream, he’d stalked the new
human consort as she unloaded the boxes from her Jeep on her first day in
Talbot. He’d hidden in the shadows of the tree line outside the Chaney cabin
and watched.

Gwen was not like the Cat Women he was bound to by
tradition. And she was not like the other human females he was drawn to by lust.
Yes, she was beautiful, and he ached to touch her soft, lush body, but there was
something more. Her aura glowed more brightly than any he’d ever seen. It
flared in awe-inspiring waves of white and pale blue and he longed to bathe in
its magic.

But it was the scent of her that overwhelmed him. It was
almost more than he could bear. It tugged at him with a force more powerful
than gravity. When he’d attacked her dog, it had been less about his ominous
dream and more about the protectiveness, want and unparalleled devotion that
stirred within him.