Violet (The Silver Series Book 4)

VIOLET

The Silver Series: Book 4

By Cheree L. Alsop

Copyright © 2012 by Cheree L.
Alsop
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be
reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the author except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review
. This ebook is
licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be
re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share
this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy
for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not
purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please
return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s
imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales
is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by Andy Hair

www.ChereeAlsop.com

To my husband, Michael Alsop.

Marrying my best friend was

The best decision I ever made.

To my family for their support,

For their love, and the

Endless adventures.

I love you!

Chapter 1

His golden eyes held mine like they did
every time I entered the cold, gray room. Roger led me to the table
in the middle and I sat on the cold metal. A shiver ran up my
spine. I shook my head. “I don't want to phase anymore. I hate
it.”

Roger checked my heartbeat and breathing
with his stethoscope, peered into my eyes, then put a thermometer
under my tongue. He wrote something down in a folder. “Your heart
rate's a bit high. It seems to trigger the response.”

“
The phasing, you mean,” I
snapped back before I could stop myself.

He glanced at me calmly and nodded. “Yes,
the phasing. Phasing has to do with an adrenaline response and your
heart rate is always elevated, which is probably another reason why
you have trouble sleeping.”

“
You mean reason besides
changing into a wild animal without the ability to stop it,” I
grumbled.

He tapped his pen against his teeth and
surveyed me with the detached boredom of someone who has performed
the same analysis and found the same results everyday for the past
two weeks.

The tapping bothered my sensitive hearing. I
glanced away from Roger and again met the eyes of the werewolf in
the cage. A shield had been fastened over the lower half of his
face. When I had questioned Roger about it, he said that the
werewolf was wild and the shield was to keep him from biting
people. It seemed cruel to me, and the shield also made his eyes
that much more piercing. I broke away from his gaze and studied his
surroundings. The cage he stood in looked more like a cell, a
corner of the room sectioned off with thick bars and strong
locks.

I had never really looked at the werewolf's
enclosure before. Usually his golden stare unnerved me enough that
I avoided looking in his direction at all costs. But the shudder
ran underneath my skin again and I desperately needed a distraction
to delay phasing.

The werewolf stood close to my brother
Kaynan’s height, a few inches taller than me. I guessed he was
older than me by a few years, too, but it was harder to tell. His
brown hair hung long and tangled to his shoulders. His eyes, golden
like a wolf's, bore into mine with a look as guarded and wild as
the air about him. A shudder ran through my body again and a hint
of pity touched his gaze.

“
What are you going to do
with him?”

Roger followed my eyes, then shrugged.
“We're trying to teach him English, but he gives no effort to learn
and attacks anyone who enters the cage. I don't see how we can
rehabilitate someone who won't even try to communicate.”

“
Is it so bad if he wants
to stay wild?”

Roger's expression turned disapproving. “A
wild werewolf is dangerous. If we can't trust him, he can't be in
society.”

“
What if he just wants to
go back to the wild?”

Roger shook his head. “That wouldn't be safe
for anyone, including him. As it is, we have to keep him shielded
and caged in silver to protect my staff.”

I stared. “The bars and shield are silver?
Doesn't that burn him?”

Roger glanced toward the cage. “It might
slow him down if he decides to attack someone.” He took in my own
disapproving expression. “Colleen, I have an obligation to everyone
who works here to keep them safe. A wild werewolf is a menace. He's
just lucky he's being given a chance.”

A strong shudder ran through my skin, this
time making my teeth chatter. I jumped off the table.

“
Where are you going?”
Roger called after me.

I didn't answer him as I sprinted down the
hall toward my room. A shiver ran through my skin followed quickly
by another. There wouldn't be time. There was never time. I let out
a growl of frustration and was forced onto all fours while my bones
shifted and joints changed direction. Black and cream colored fur
ran up my arms and my fingers pulled into the clawed toes of the
wolf. My nose and mouth elongated into a muzzle, and my teeth
sharpened and grew. My body gave one last shudder, muscles taut
from the change; instinct called for me to find fresh air and
freedom from the confining walls.

A door opened down the hall and I turned to
see Roger peek out to check on me. I longed to go to him and have
him try to fix me, but no one could stop the phasing and nothing
could change what I was.

I turned away and padded slowly up the hall
to my room. The door already sat open. I never dared to close it
because of the havoc I wrecked if I found I couldn't get out after
phasing. The wolf instincts that longed for escape were too strong
to fight sometimes and the mindless mess that ensued was something
no one wanted to deal with.

The room smelled of chemical cleaners and
cement; little of me had made an impact on it in the week that the
room had been mine except for claw marks gouging the door. The few
things that my brother Kaynan had brought me had been destroyed in
my phase the other day when I accidentally pushed the door closed
and I went crazy trying to get out of the claustrophobic space.
Roger's definition of safe for my own quarters was definitely
different from my own, but it beat the cage similar to the wild
werewolf's I had inhabited the week before. At least they hadn't
forced me to wear a shield.

Another shudder ran through my skin and
before I could do anything, I was lying in my human form on the
cold ground. A tear of frustration trailed slowly down my cheek. I
embraced the humiliation, doubt, and pity for ten seconds,
wondering what I had become and what would happen to me. Then I
took a deep breath, wiped the tear away, and rose to my feet. The
hospital gown Meg gave me with the tiny snap buttons that were a
pain to do up but came undone easily when I phased still lay in the
hallway about halfway between my room and the analysis center. At
least I had interesting problems to solve.

I peered out the door both ways, ensured
that no one was within sight, then dashed down the hallway for the
crumpled blue gown that waited sadly for me to reclaim it. As I did
up the buttons, I was reminded of the races Kaynan and I used to
have for the remote, the last can of soda, or the bathroom. A pang
of sorrow swept through me at what had changed. I pushed it away,
knowing that regret was the last thing that would get me through
any of this.

I wandered through the halls later that
night. Insomnia was another fantastic reaction to the DNA fusion
that had made me a werewolf, another of the reactions Kaynan hadn't
had to deal with and no one could fix. It took about three days of
no sleep for me to finally drop in an exhausted heap wherever the
insomnia decided to let up. Until then, I was left to my own means
while the rest of the staff slept except for two solitary guards
who seemed to have the position because they generally didn't like
to talk and could care less about a bored teenager roving
around.

I had explored every nook and cranny of the
rehab center except for the room with the wild werewolf, but
desperate times called for desperate measures. I would go crazy if
I couldn't find something to keep my mind occupied while everyone
was asleep. The werewolf in the cage had never done anything to
make me distrust him, but I still felt uneasy under his knowing
golden gaze. I shook off the thought and entered the analysis
center.

My werewolf eyesight easily compensated for
the meager lighting provided by a solitary emergency light that
glowed dimly overhead by the door. Turning on the lights would wash
the room in color, but sometimes I enjoyed the simplicity of animal
vision. A myriad of grays, blacks, and whites of hues I had never
before experienced colored the tables and computers I passed on my
way to the cage.

The werewolf watched my silent approach, his
gaze above the shield guarded and slightly quizzical. He sat with
his back against the cold cement wall, and I realized it was the
first time I had ever seen him sitting and not pacing the metal
enclosure. I drew near, expecting him to rise, but he merely
watched me, his muscles tense as though it took all of his
self-control to stay sitting.

I grabbed the chart on the table and sat on
the floor next to the cell. It felt familiar, comfortable almost to
lean against the same wall as though the cage wasn't between us and
we were just friends talking. I laughed at my own desperate
delusions and flipped through the chart.

“
Says here they have no
idea where you're from.” I glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. “I'd
guess Alaska or Canada. Somewhere north because apparently you've
been able to hide out for this long without being found and the
Hunters range pretty far.”

He didn't comment. I didn't expect him to,
so I flipped another page. “They guess that you were raised by
wolves, but don't know how you got out there in the first place.
Sounds like negligent parents to me,” I said to myself. The hair
rose on the back of my neck and I turned to see him standing by the
bars glaring down at me. I hadn't heard him move, not a brush of
clothes or a whisper of his bare feet against the cement. I stood
up quickly and held up my hands. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean any
offense.”

At his continued glare, his golden eyes
fierce and dark, a blush rose to my cheeks. “I really didn't mean
anything, honest. You probably had wonderful parents. Maybe they're
still out there, I don't know.” I put the chart back on the table.
“It's none of my business and I shouldn't be going through your
stuff. I don't even know your name.” I glanced back at the chart.
“They just label you as Feral Werewolf Four. That doesn't seem very
nice. No wonder you're touchy.”

I turned to go, feeling horrible about what
I said. I thought my life was bad, but at least I wasn't caged and
away from my loved ones. Kaynan came to visit a few times a week,
and he said Mom and Dad would be so happy to see me again. They
didn't know I was alive because we didn't want to tell them if I
couldn't get the phasing under control, but when I could control
it, I planned to see them first thing.

I was almost to the door when the werewolf
whispered something behind me. His voice, rough from the lack of
use, sent a shiver through my skin. I turned back around slowly.
“What did you say?”

His eyes studied mine as though he debated
whether to trust me. I waited in silence. His brow furrowed.
“Rafe.”

I took a step closer. “Rafe?”

He nodded and gestured toward the chart. “My
name is Rafe.”

A smile spread across my face and I crossed
the room back to his cage. “You speak!” I said with barely
contained excitement.

He rolled his eyes but the corners creased
and I wondered if he smiled under the silver shield.

I frowned. “Why do you let them lock you in
here? Why don't you talk to them?”

He hesitated, then studied his hands. “I
don't like them.”

His voice was halting, hesitant like he
didn't trust the words.

A puzzle piece fit together in my mind. “And
they don't like you.” I saw Roger's disapproving look and heard
Jaze say again that they would rehabilitate every werewolf that
came from Dr. Tannin's Development Center. Given the way Rafe had
been treated by Dr. Tannin's team and now at the rehab center, I
couldn't blame him.

I grabbed the file from the table and passed
it through the bars. “Want to see what they say about you?” He took
it, his eyes quizzical, then held it loosely in his hands as if
unsure what to do with it. I wondered if he could read, but didn't
dare ask for fear of offending him again after finally finding
someone interesting to talk to.