Noble Wolf (A BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (10 page)

Six wolf shifters would be nothing for a vampire as old as Thomas. Thankfully, contrary to the tales written by humans, vampires were neither plentiful, nor were they born capricious. Many of them were like Thomas, simply existing, without trying to eradicate any human who crossed them.

"I do not believe they are here yet. What we face first are some of their shades. Which is what I have you for. The shades are tough, but they will be few in number, and not a match for you as a group."

"What's a shade?" Holden asked.

"A human with the mental strength to withstand the Changing. When a vampire bites a human, it inflicts incredible mental stress upon them. Many go insane and kill themselves. Several more take it, and survive to turn into shades. Baby vampires, for want of a better word, although they have several centuries before they have any hope of truly evolving into a vampire. Often times they run afoul of shifters, or their masters simply tire of them, ending their existence before they can change."

"Joy, that makes this all the more pleasant," Bryce muttered.

"So," Jake said, finally facing the task at hand. "Where do we find them?"

Thomas told them, explaining the turnoff and what they might expect to find.

"I will be nearby in case the vampires are there, but until then, the rest is up to you. Once I commit myself, they will in turn enter the playing field. So the longer we can—I am sorry to say—use you, the better."

"I think we can all agree that keeping four vampires from fighting is a good idea," Bryce said.

The others nodded in agreement. Lips curled back into a cold smile, he strode toward his truck, not wanting to linger any longer.

It was time to go rescue his mate.

Natasha

All she could think about was that first night the two of them had shared together. The memories of that night of passion and exploration were something she cherished. They had been the gateway to something more, though even now Natasha wasn't entirely sure what lay before them. But she was certain that she wanted to find out, side by side with Bryce's hand clasped over hers. The two of them made a formidable pair, and she wasn't afraid to admit that she saw something with him that she had never seen with another man before.

The future.

"When my Master gets here, you will know much pain," said the thing that had once been Maria.

Well, one version of the future, at least. A happier, family-filled vision of the years to come, where there were no secrets, no drama, and most of all, no dangerous situations. She was quite positive that none of those dreams had seen her the way she was now.

At least she was still clothed. It was the one silver lining she had been able to find out of the entire fucked-up situation. Keeping her dignity helped to keep her spirits intact, to a degree. As did several other elements of her current predicament.

"You know, threatening pain and such doesn't go along so well when you have me sitting in a leather reclining chair this comfortable," she remarked, giving her best attempt to taunt the waitress-thing. She had been trying her hand at it for awhile now, but so far responses had been only slightly greater than zero.

"The comfort of the chair is designed to help enhance the pain that will come. I was treated much the same way," Maria-notMaria said evenly. There was no emotion in her voice, which was something that Natasha found very intriguing. Hoping to get some more information, she tried her hand at it again.

"Why do you have to wait? Are you not good enough? You must have fucked up too many times!" she said, surprising herself with a laugh to emphasize her point.

"I must wait simply because I cannot do it. I am too young; my bite would simply cause your heart to stop beating within seconds."

Natasha's blood ran cold. That was most certainly
not
the outcome she wanted. Perhaps it was time to rethink her strategy.

"How much longer does it take? You must be at least twenty, twenty-five," she prodded.

Maria laughed a bitter laugh, devoid of all joy and humor. "As it will do you no good, since you will be dead or turned shortly, I will let you in on a secret: I am eighty-four years old."

"Oh."

Smooth. Real smooth. Then again, Natasha wasn't sure how anyone would react to that.

As if to coincide with the soul-crushing knowledge that what she was dealing with was far older and more powerful than she, thunder pealed outside, followed swiftly by the sound of rain as big, thick raindrops began to hammer at the walls, a miniature assault of epic proportions.

At first Maria paid the weather no heed. It wasn't until the howl of a wolf penetrated the rolling thunder that she sat upright.

"Oh, now you're in trouble," she told her captor, her grin turning evil as she realized that somehow, against all the odds, Bryce had found her.

That was the only explanation for the reaction of her "host."With the way she had bodily hauled Natasha around earlier, and managed to force Bryce to kiss her despite his inhuman strength, it was clear that whatever not-Maria was, a single wolf howling at the storm would not produce such a noticeable result.

"It is too soon," came the soft-spoken comment, not directed at her, but audible nonetheless.

"Actually, I think it's a few hours too late."

Deep down though, Natasha was just happy that Bryce had come for her. She wasn't sure how he would react after she had, in hindsight, admittedly stormed off rather hastily. There was too much going on between them. The feelings were too strong, too deeply entrenched, for her to give up that easily. She just hoped that he would give her a second chance, to make things right between them. Part of her felt he would, just because of who he was, but another part of her knew he would be well within his rights to ensure her safety and then cut her loose.

"No," the woman next to her whispered as yet another wolf howl erupted, this time even closer. "I wish they wouldn't make us do this."

Natasha froze, ceasing her attempts to squirm free.

"Us?" she said, very slowly, making sure to completely and properly enunciate the entire two-letter word.

"Yes. Us." The soft alto voice spoke from the doorway behind her.

She flopped around as fast as she could, considering the rope around her legs and hands were keeping her restrained behind her back. Standing there was a tall, skinny male. His gaunt figures were further highlighted by the ultra-pale complexion of his skin and the almost platinum blond coloring of his hair.

"Brother, what should we do?"

"Brother? You two are related? That's unfortunate," she said slowly, her response automatic as she tried to process the fact that the odds had just turned from being considerably in Bryce's favor to unknown. She felt confident that the pack could take down the one woman, though she wasn't sure what having a second would mean.

"Be quiet," the older one said, his dull, emotionless eyes unerringly focused on her as he strode over to stand next to his sister? Peer?

She had no idea if it was the religious slash cultish definition of brother, or a true familial aspect. Regardless, the way he was staring at her made her extremely uncomfortable.

"You know," he said to not-Maria. "I am very close to being able to complete the ritual. Perhaps I should—"

"No. Absolutely not. The Master would end you, and that would be...regrettable. And foolish. If it proves absolutely unlikely that we will succeed, then perhaps. But only perhaps."

Interesting. The male seemed to be older, but the female was in charge. She was sure that bore some sort of further investigation, but time, it would seem, was not inclined to wait. The house was two stories, and the room that she was in was on the second story.

Below her from somewhere on the first floor, there was a smash of glass, followed by the howl of the wind as one of the windows flew inward under the weight of something. A wolf, she hoped. A very large gray wolf, with brilliant silver eyes, if she was asked to be specific.

The male
thing
—her brain failed to produce a better word—looked back across the door it had come in through. To Natasha's knowledge it was the only door in or out of the room. There were two windows in front of her, and four along the wall opposite the door, suggesting she was in a corner room.

Besides her chair, there was a large rectangular desk around which the two were currently conferring. Bookcases lined the wall to her right, adding a touch of refined mystique to what she had come to think of as her jail cell. There was a large rug beneath her chair, covering much of the hardwood floor, and another under the desk as well. She hadn't seen what was directly behind her, but she figured it to be more of the same.

Plenty of open space for a wolf to maneuver, she thought.

"Stay here. Do what you must if it comes down to it," the woman said abruptly, storming toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Natasha cried, desperate to slow her down, to try and delay her to give the wolves more time to prepare. Her voice was loud and strong, hopefully carrying through the creaky old house and down to the waiting wolves themselves.

"To show our intruders the door, or their grave," she said, flowing forward. As she went, her figure transformed, becoming hidden in shadow and blackness. She became nothing more than an apparition. One that Natasha had seen before.

"It was you!" she screamed. "You bitch! You almost killed Chase!" She began to struggle mightily again in an attempt to free herself.

"You are incorrect," the male said calmly as the sounds of combat erupted from another part of the house. Thuds and screeches were intermingled with yelps and glass smashing.

"What do you mean?" she said, glancing back and forth between the creepy dude and the open door, frantically trying to free herself.

The sounds grew louder.

"You believe she was the one who attacked you earlier," he said with a sigh of impatience. It was the first sign of emotion that she had seen from either of them. That scared her more than anything for some reason.

"Then—" she started to say, but then stopped abruptly. "It was you," she finished.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Why do you look at me like that?" she said through a moment of silence, where the only sounds were the storm outside and the wind rushing through the broken window somewhere outside the room.

"I can see your blood running through your neck. It is...tempting," he said, moving around the desk to come closer to her.

He had gone only a few steps before the tattered remains of his partner stumbled into the room.

Natasha had a second to glimpse at the true extent of the damage. Her left arm was simply gone. Perhaps six inches of flesh and bone hung off her shoulder where it should have been, spewing black blood everywhere. Her face, once that of a pretty, if now lifeless woman, was horribly mangled. One of her eyes had been punctured, and the skin hung in a way that was just...wrong. The rest of her body was covered in huge, ragged gashes and holes where chunks of flesh had been torn away.

"There were too many," she said, before falling limply forward.

The body didn't even have time to reach the ground before a wolf burst through the door, taking her head in its jaws and wrenching it wildly.

Natasha screamed in horror, turning away from the scene.

But then she was confronted with the vision of the male rushing at her, his mouth wide open. She tried to get her arms up to block, but he moved too quickly, evading her. His teeth gently caressed the skin on her neck before they sunk into her.

The pain was instantaneous. Natasha screamed, the high-pitched wail erupting from her throat as fire burned its way through her arteries at lightspeed. Her body writhed and contorted, trying to cope with the unblockable assault upon her senses. She screamed and screamed, only dimly aware of what was going on around her.

A wolf yelped in pain, followed by a bellow that could only have come from the man who had bit her. Then everything was washed away again in blinding white as the pain renewed its assault. She could physically feel it crawling its way from her neck down into her arms and spreading across her torso. Part of her—the detached, not-so-sane part—wondered idly if there was anything visible that she could see.

The rest of her screamed yet again, her throat beginning to go raw. She thrashed violently against her restraints, but nothing seemed to work, though she did end up twisted with a view of the desk. It was there that she saw the male fighting his last stand, moving faster than she could focus in her state.

She did see a wolf, as black as night, leap at him, only to be caught in mid-air and thrown hard out of one of the windows. Her hand reflexively tried to reach out to help, despite being restrained beneath her, and she went to yell. All that came out was a scream as the burning pushed into her stomach, continuing the slow advance through her entire body.

Through the pain-filled blur, she saw two wolves converge simultaneously on the man from the sides. He tried to spin, but their jaws latched on, dragging him down with them. Another wolf, this one bone-white, leapt at the man, teeth closing around his head. The wolf wrenched its head powerfully to the side, and the room went quiet as a loud
snap
echoed through the chaos.

It was followed by another scream.

"What's wrong?" Bryce said, his face suddenly appearing in front of hers.

Strong hands began to fiddle with her restraints. With a snarl, Bryce parted the ropes that bound her, scooping her up into his arms. That was when the tears started as she realized that she was safe despite the pain racking her body. Her voice would not come, however, besides letting loose with yet another agonizing scream.

"She has been bitten."

Or maybe she wasn't safe. Thomas's smooth voice carried easily in the chambers, as if they were made for someone with a melodic voice such as his. Unfortunately, it did not bring her any relief.

"Shit, he's right, she has," Bryce exclaimed, noticing for the first time the marks on her neck. "What do we do?"

"I am not sure," Thomas said.

"What the hell do you mean you're 'not sure'?" Bryce snarled, his face still inches from hers. She could feel the hot wash from his breath as he panted from the exertion of the fight. Blood trickled from a dozen or more wounds that she could see in her current state.

"The bite of a shade kills instantly, similar to vampires of fairy tales as they drain their victims dry. This one," he said with a gesture to the corpse behind him, "is not a full vampire. An older shade. I do not understand why his bite has not killed her yet."

Thomas thought about it for a moment longer, during which the burning sensation increased its assault, moving between and down her legs. Natasha cried out again and again, her throat raw and likely bleeding. It didn't give up, and she began to feel feverish as heat washed over her, like a blast furnace opening its doors.