Primal Desires

C
LICK
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ERE
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IGN
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Central Europe, Winter 1943

J
ason Cage enjoyed the company of wolves, but the trio of creatures surrounding him in the clearing had to be werewolves. No wolf had ever looked at him out of glowing gold eyes with intelligence that rivaled his own. Being surrounded by members of the Gestapo wouldn't have surprised him, nor a touch on his shoulder from the vampire Prime who also hunted him. But this pack was the last thing Jason had expected to find in the deep forest tonight.

Then again, the moon was full, the woods were remote. If he were a werewolf, he'd consider this countryside perfect for running free. Freedom was a thing every creature desired, be it mortal or otherwise evolved.

“Good evening,” he said, mostly because it was something he'd heard a vampire say in an American movie.

He hoped the largest werewolf's answering snarl was a form of laughter.

“I mean no harm to you,” he went on.

He spoke calmly, without making any effort to reach the minds of the werewolves telepathically—mostly out of politeness, but also because every time he tried psychic communication lately, the other Prime somehow focused in on his use of mental energy.

The werewolves circled him, silver moonlight outlining their dark shapes.
In morphed form they must be huge men,
he thought.

It occurred to him that
they
meant him harm, which was not generally the way it went between werewolves and vampires.

“Why?” he asked as the trio drew closer.

They began to circle, growing one step nearer with each turn around the clearing. Clearly this was a dance, a ritual. Was there meant to be a sacrifice at the end?

While his ancestors might have participated in such Old Religion nonsense, Jason was a Prime of the twentieth century.

“There's a war on, you know,” he reminded the circling beasts. “We should be fighting the Germans instead of each other.”

They continued to come toward him.

He'd done his best to be civilized.

He smiled, happily anticipating the fight. “Very well, then.”

As if his words were a signal, the pack let out an eerie howl and they all rushed him at once.

Jason laughed, tossing them around as though they were stuffed toys rather than creatures of hard muscle, sharp claws, and wicked fangs. They got in a few scratches, and a nip or two, but vampire skin was tough and healed quickly.

All in all, Jason enjoyed the game. He'd been running and hiding too much of late; this was a chance to take out his frustrations in a perfectly Primal way.

When it was finished, Jason hadn't broken a sweat and the werewolves lay in panting, exhausted heaps in the clearing. Jason was tempted to raise his head and howl at the moon himself.

What stopped him was the sudden awareness that he and the werewolves were not alone. There was a mortal standing behind him, and as Jason turned to face him the mortal began to clap.

“I'm glad you found us entertaining,” Jason said to the white-bearded old man.

The mortal was shabbily dressed, but he had the bearing of an ancient prince. He lowered his gnarled hands to his side and gave Jason a regal nod. The werewolves dragged themselves from the ground and came to crouch at the old man's feet.

“Welcome, Prime.” The mortal touched a werewolf's head and it leaned against his thigh. “You have done well tonight.”

And it occurred to Jason that he had just been through some sort of test. But what was it, and why?

Las Vegas, Spring, Present Day

O
ne more show, and then two months off—I can hardly wait!”

Jason understood his assistant's enthusiasm as they waited backstage. During their hiatus, she was going to get married and honeymoon on Bora-Bora. He had no particular plans or destination in mind.

Or he hadn't until a few minutes ago.

“Of course, I'll miss the critters. Do you think they'll miss us?”

The tigers and lions they used in the Beast Master magic show were going to be spending their holiday at a very exclusive private nature reserve. The wolves, of course, never left his side.

“They won't want to come back to work after two months of running free,” Jason answered.

He fingered the talisman he'd put in his vest pocket. He'd recognized the gold coin instantly, even though only half of it had been sent to him.

Out front, the applause was beginning.

Even with his powers, it was never wise to be distracted during a performance. He wished he hadn't opened the padded envelope until he was alone in his dressing room after the show. He certainly wished he hadn't read the note.

Now he had somewhere he absolutely needed to be, and an obligation he could not refuse to fulfill.

But at this moment, the lure of the audience called him.

Northeast of San Diego, Spring, Present Day

Sofia Hunyara was aware of the weight of the pendant resting at the base of her throat. Nothing else felt like gold. It was heavy and rich, and
there
whether she could see it or not. The crescent-shaped half of an ancient coin, which she wore on a leather cord, was tucked discreetly beneath her blouse. She traced the coin's outline beneath the soft silk. Once upon a time the coin had been all she'd had, and she'd fought hard to keep it. In the last few years, she'd kept it in a safety deposit box and hadn't thought about it much—not until the message arrived last week.

She peered out of her windshield at the house on the hilltop and shook her head. The impressive mansion looked completely out of place in the California desert.

Why am I doing this?
she asked herself yet again.

Probably because of her grandfather, and her great-grandfather.

She pressed her palm against the pendant.

And the fact that, except for a distant cousin, she was alone in the world and the world did not make sense. At least the past didn't make sense.

“This should go to your father,” her grandfather had said, handing her a small leather bag. “I am so sorry this burden must go to you.”

She tugged the bag open and spilled its contents into her cupped hand. It was what she expected, yet different. She looked at the dying man propped up in the hospital bed. “Where's the other half?”

“Your father should be the one to teach you,” he said. “He should be here now.”

Her father was serving three consecutive life terms at Seal Bay. She was never going to see him again, and she didn't want him teaching her anything. She'd seen what he'd done. But this was no time to take her bitterness out on her grandfather. All she could do was wait for the old man to go on.

“Someday you'll know what must be done. Someday your teacher will be found. Until then, be patient. Someday…”

His last word had been
someday
. Sofia had waited a long time. Much of that time had not been pleasant. She'd stopped expecting explanations, or even wanting them. But now here she was.

Another vehicle pulled up behind hers at the end of the long drive. Sofia got out of her car at the same time a man exited the white SUV behind her. Tall and lean, he had very broad shoulders and lots of wavy brown hair. She was struck by the coiled energy and animal grace in the way he moved as he came toward her. She'd have to be dead not to stare, and she couldn't help but lick her lips.

Okay, the guy looked delicious, but that was no reason to be rude, or blatant. Sofia managed to get the spike of lust under control by the time he reached her, but felt awkward and embarrassed.

She turned her attention toward the Gothic pile of stone in front of them. “Do you think it comes with its own madwoman in the attic?” she asked. “Or do they have to rent one?”

“And do Heathcliff and Cathy have a guesthouse out back?” he answered.

Wow, a guy who knew
Jane Eyre
from
Wuthering Heights
! His voice was deep and rich as cream, and she couldn't help but look at him and smile. She was immediately caught by the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

She almost stuck her hand out and said,
My name's Sofia. Can I have your babies?
The odd, powerful reaction unnerved her, and all her usual mistrust and wariness rushed back. She immediately turned and walked toward the house. Who this guy was and what he was doing here didn't matter. She had her own fish to fry.

• • •

Jason waited a moment before following the dark-eyed Hispanic beauty, appreciating her long legs and the curve of her behind as she walked away. He also needed the time to recover from the psychic whirlwind that had hit him when they'd looked into each other's eyes. He'd gotten the impression that beneath the skin, she was a creature of fire. He also knew a caged animal when he saw one. He doubted this mortal knew the first thing about her psychic gifts, or knew that she'd unconsciously thrown up one of the strongest psychic shields he'd ever encountered.

He supposed he'd have to go inside to find out who she was and what she was doing here.

He joined her as she rang the doorbell. When no one came to the door after a couple of minutes, she muttered, “Now what?”

There was an ornate brass knocker in the shape of a gargoyle in the center of the heavy wooden door. Jason tried it. No one answered this summons, either.

He was prepared to force the door open, but the knob turned easily. “Shall we?” he asked.

“Isn't this breaking and entering?” the young woman asked.

“I have an invitation to be here,” he answered. “Don't you?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, not sounding at all happy about it. “All this mystery is
so
annoying.”

He nodded and pushed open the door. The gentlemanly thing would have been to stand back and let the lady enter first. But a protective instinct kicked in, and he went into the house ahead of her.

The entrance hall was huge, and deeply in shadows, but the darkness didn't keep him from seeing the enormous werewolves waiting in the corners. Jason turned to slam the door on her, but the mortal had already followed him inside.

“What's the mat—” she began as the beasts charged forward.

“Get out!” he ordered, and put himself between her and the werewolves.

The beasts snarled and leapt, and Jason took them all on at once. Claws slashed him across the face and teeth sank into his calf, but he was the one left standing when it was done. It was then that he turned toward the door and saw the young woman staring at him. Her back was pressed against the door, her eyes huge with fear, and she was pale and trembling.

He took a step toward her, but turned as someone began to clap behind him. Jason didn't recognize this old man, but he looked at him in disgust. “Haven't I already passed this test?”

The old man smiled, though it was more of a sneer. “Who says the test was for you, vampire?”