Jennifer Lynn Barnes Anthology (82 page)

I woke up on December 24, looked in the mirror, and made a decision. I didn’t tell anyone, because I knew they would argue with me. I brushed my lips against Chase’s, and his curved upward in response.

I willed him to keep sleeping.

I walked toward the door and paused at the dresser, just long enough to look at myself in the mirror one last time and pick a small wooden carving up off the base. I tucked it into the pocket of my jeans, helped myself to the keys to Ali’s car, and drove.

It took hours to reach my destination. I threw the car into park and slipped out of the driver’s seat. Then I walked right
up to the edge of the sign—
WELCOME TO COLORADO
—and I waited.

I didn’t have to wait long. Callum seemed smaller than I remembered, and he looked younger, right up until we were standing less than two feet apart, and then my eyes adjusted and saw him as they always had.

For a few seconds, we just looked at each other, poker faces firmly in place, Callum on his side of the border and me on mine.

“I don’t suppose Ali knows you took off with her car,” he said finally. I would have taken his speaking first as a sign of victory, but I recognized a hint of mischief around the corners of his eyes.

“Actually,” I said, “I’m pretty sure she does, because I’m betting you called and told her.”

Callum ran a hand over the five o’clock shadow on his face, but the motion couldn’t quite hide his sheepish smile. “Old habits die hard, Bryn.”

I felt a few “old habits” of my own flaring up. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the carving he’d sent me on Thanksgiving Day, and I slammed it down into his palm.

“A Trojan horse?” I said. “Seriously, Callum? You saw what was going to happen, you
knew
, and all you could give me was a cryptic carving whose meaning wouldn’t register until
after
Shay had sent a ticking time bomb into my ranks?”

The poker face fell back into place. “I wanted to be there.
I wanted to help you, but this was something you needed to do on your own.”

This tune was already old. “I’m Sorry for It, but I’d Do It Again” was quickly becoming Callum’s theme song.

“There are things you don’t know, Bryn, things I can’t tell you about the person you’re meant to become.”

I swallowed the urge to tell him that the next time he could take his cryptic warnings and put them where the sun don’t shine. Instead, I asked him the question I’d come here to ask, the one he’d almost certainly known he would be answering when he drove here to meet me.

“Will you do it?” I didn’t specify what
it
was. I didn’t have to.

A flicker of sadness passed over Callum’s face, and something tender flashed through his eyes, but a moment later, all of that was gone. Callum reached across the border and ran one hand over my head and down the length of my hair, the way he had a million times when I was growing up.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I will.”

“Now?” I asked, and he let out a bark of laughter that made me wonder exactly what memory from my youth my request had provoked. I’d never exactly been what one would call patient.

“No,” Callum replied sternly. “Not now. You have some time yet, Bryn-girl. Human time. I’d not have you giving that up.”

I didn’t like his answer, but there was no one else I could ask to do the unthinkable. Chase and Devon would have refused,
Lake would have found a way to beat the tar out of me just for asking, and I didn’t trust anyone else to do it right. If the werewolf who attacked me pulled his punches, all I’d have to show for it would be a boatload of scars, and if he went too far, I’d be
dead
.

This wasn’t a science. There were no guarantees. But this was Callum, and if there was one person I trusted to know exactly how much he could hurt me for the greater good, it was him.

“You won’t tell Ali?” I asked. I’d thought this through, but given that I valued my life, I didn’t think cluing my foster mother in would be a good idea.

“She’d never forgive me for even considering it,” Callum replied.

I snorted. “She’s never going to forgive you anyway.”

“Brat.”

I accepted the word as a term of endearment but didn’t take that one extra step to cross from my territory into his, and as much as he might have wanted to, he didn’t cross over in my direction, either.

I had my pack, and he had his. I had my reasons for asking. Knowing Callum, he had his reasons for saying yes.

Maybe this moment had been inevitable from the day Callum had saved me and taken me in. Maybe he’d always known it would come down to this. Maybe he’d hoped that it wouldn’t.

In any case, if there was one thing the past month had taught me, it was that the stronger a pack was, the stronger their alpha—and the stronger the alpha, the stronger the pack.

I wanted my pack to be safe.

I wanted to be able to protect them.

I didn’t want a giant target forever drawn on my very human head. What had happened with Lucas wasn’t going to happen again.

Ever.

“Merry Christmas, Callum,” I said.

He smiled and handed me back the carving of the Trojan horse. “Merry Christmas, Bryn.”

I closed my fingers around the token. I walked back to Ali’s car, buried this entire conversation so deep in my mind that no one else would ever know it had taken place, and drove home.

Alpha. Alpha. Alpha
.

Pack. Pack. Pack
.

Soon
.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to everyone who’s helped this book come to life. Thanks first and foremost to my editor, Regina Griffin, whose keen insights whipped this puppy (no pun intended) into shape and who continually floors me with her enthusiasm and love for Bryn and her world. Thanks also to Elizabeth Harding, agent extraordinaire, who keeps me sane—I sleep better at night knowing I have you on my side. To everyone at Egmont USA, who are all among the kindest, funniest, smartest bunch of folks I know, I cannot tell you how lucky I feel to be a part of your pack! And a big thank-you to the team at Quercus, especially Roisin Heycock and Parul Bavishi, for bringing the Raised by Wolves series to the UK and taking such good care of me last fall.

I would be absolutely lost without my writing friends, who lend an ear on everything from plotting to procrastination. Thanks to Sarah Cross and Melissa Marr for reading early drafts of this book, and to Ally Carter, for being on the other
side of the phone line every single day. And a shout-out to the Smart Chicks, my RWA roomies, and Bob!

As always, I couldn’t do even half of what I do without the love and support of my family. Mom, Dad, Justin, and Allison—you all are the best.

EGMONT
We bring stories life

First published by Egmont USA, 2012
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 806
New York, NY 10016

Copyright © Jennifer Lynn Barnes, 2012
All rights reserved

www.egmontusa.com
www.jenniferlynnbarnes.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Barnes, Jennifer (Jennifer Lynn)
Taken by storm: a Raised by wolves novel / Jennifer Lynn Barnes.
p. cm.
Summary: Alpha Bryn’s humanity becomes a bigger problem as she takes her place in the werewolf Senate and tries to address a new threat to the pack.
eISBN: 978-1-60684-475-5

[1. Werewolves—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.B26225Tak 2012

[Fic]—dc23
2011027155

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

v3.1

For Justin
.

CHAPTER ONE

I
RAN AS THOUGH MY LIFE DEPENDED ON IT
. Branches tore at my ankles and legs. My bare feet—caked with blood and mud and who knew what else—slammed into the forest floor, again and again and again. It hurt. Everything hurt.

It didn’t hurt enough.

I pushed harder, faster, my lungs on fire and my chest tightening like a vise around my heart.

I couldn’t run like this indefinitely. I couldn’t keep going, but I couldn’t stop. Muscles screaming, heart pounding—any second, my body would give in. Any second, it would be over.

No
.

I fought. I fought to breathe, fought to hold on, to keep going, to—

Survive
.

There it was: a whisper from somewhere deep inside of me, a familiar feeling creeping up my spine. I tasted copper on the tip of my tongue, and my vision—already blurred—shifted.

Red, red. Everywhere, there was red
.