Wolf's Fall (5 page)

“He's passable enough.” She shrugged.

Selene laughed. “Ha! You were staring at his backside like he was a nice juicy steak, so don't even try that with me. He seemed pretty into you, too.”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

The other woman's smile turned contemplative. Suddenly, she leaned toward Calla and sniffed.
“Holy shit, his scent is all over you. That old dog, he marked you good, didn't he?”

“M-marked me?”

“Yeah,” Selene drawled. “Oldest shifter mating ritual on record, girlfriend, especially with born wolves. The male marks his female to warn off other guys. Guess which ritual is the second oldest.”

Nick's daughter was fucking with her, and enjoying herself immensely. But that didn't make what she said any less true. Calla had heard about the marking thing—she'd just never encountered an example firsthand.

Calla drew herself up and looked Selene straight in the eye. She wasn't sure whether she was being mocked, or merely teased in a good-natured manner. “I like your father a lot,” she said directly. “I'm drawn to him as well, and to be honest there could be more than mere attraction there. Is that going to be a problem?”

She'd said as much as she could to the woman without revealing she was pretty sure Nick was her mate. Nick deserved to hear those words first, when the time was right.

“Not at all,” Selene said, dropping the teasing. Her expression was warm, and she seemed genuine when she spoke again. “I want nothing more than to see Dad happy. He's been on the edge of a cliff, and if you're the one who can pull him back, I'll be thrilled.”

“Me, too. And thank you. I don't know what's going to happen, but it's good to know we have support.”

“Always. Not just from me, either, but from everyone.”

Impulsively, Calla pulled Selene into a hug. The other woman appeared surprised at first, then returned the gesture with enthusiasm. Then she stepped back and squeezed Selene's hand.

“Thanks, but I have a feeling your dad is going to prove to be a challenge. Marking or no marking.”

And then there was Tarron and his damned matchmaking to contend with.

She wondered what the commander would think about
that
.

Something told her she'd better keep that tidbit under wraps where a certain possessive wolf was concerned.

T
he ride to the site where they were to intercept the hunters was short—but it was long enough to recall every moment Nick had spent in Calla's company this afternoon.

Was this woman for real? All he could think was,
She's too perfect. Too beautiful. She has to possess at least one flaw.

Then he'd lost his head. Pushed her against the tree and devoured her mouth like the starving wolf he was. Fucking hell, it had been so long since he'd felt such a strong connection to a woman. Like he had to have her or he'd go crazy.

His wolf hadn't been able to get close enough, either. Immediately he was rubbing all over her, leaving so much of his scent on her that every shifter within miles of her would know who the hell she belonged to. He had to mark her or lose his mind.

And then he'd felt her tense. As his tongue explored her delicious mouth, he'd actually touched one of her fangs as it lengthened. Her need to bite him became a palpable thing.

There was her flaw, he remembered.

Calla was a vampire. As such, she'd need to feed from her mate, eventually.

And she's my mate. If there was any question before, there isn't now. My wolf is howling with the need to be with her. To claim her for us. Then she'd have to claim me, too, as vampires do.

Sink her fangs into my neck. Drink from me.

Like Carter.

He couldn't let that happen. The very idea made his gut writhe as though filled with poisonous snakes. And yet, if he didn't claim her, he'd eventually get mating sickness. He was much older, could hold out longer than the turned wolves on his team, but not forever.

Had Calla saved his life for nothing, then? What was the point in living if he couldn't work past the horror of what Carter had done to him?

What am I going to do?

“We're here! Get ready!” Jax shouted.

Nick slid from his seat and grabbed the M16 off his shoulder. Sometimes a direct assault and good old-fashioned firepower was the best tactic. That was what they were doing with the hunters since there wasn't time to set down miles away and
come in quiet. The coven that was under siege was out of time.

They flew in low, balls to the wall, and let the bullets fly. It wasn't too difficult to tell who the bad guys were—they were the armed ones shooting back. The humans were dressed in cammo, too. Real original. Bullets pinged off the sides of the Huey. One missed Nick's head, so close he swore he felt the heat from its passing.

He fired off round after round, hitting more than he missed. Hunters dropped like puppets with their strings cut, and he felt nothing. No sympathy. He thought of Rambo in the movie declaring they'd drawn first blood, and that was how he viewed the matter.

They started it. We'll finish it.

With Aric at the controls, the Huey Nick was riding in circled around, making another pass at the wide-open spaces between the buildings of the coven. Most soldiers who weren't dead were on the run, headed for the trees, guns slung over their backs.

Except one. Nick saw the bastard take aim in his direction a split second too late. A punch seared his chest and he was thrown backward, onto the cold metal floor. His weapon clattered from his hand. Hammer's shouts reached Nick's ears, but he couldn't understand what his friend was saying. He tried to push up. Couldn't move.

“Stay down!” Hammer's frantic face loomed over him.

“Vest,” he gasped, trying to raise his arm. “I'm okay.”

The big man shook his head, exchanging a panicked look with someone. “They had armor-piercing bullets. You're shot through. Stay still.”

What?
Raising his head a bit, he looked down at himself. His tan body armor was rapidly becoming soaked, turning a dark rust with his blood. “Oh, fuck.”

His head swam and he dropped it back to the floor, staring at the roof. The motion of the Huey was making him sick. The craft executed a sharp turn and he knew Aric was taking him home as fast as the copter would fly.

“The coven,” he rasped.

“The others stayed behind to wrap up,” Jax said from somewhere near his head. “Stop worrying and save your strength.”

His chest burned like the fires of hell. It was as though someone had pried open his sternum with their bare hands and then poured acid into the bloody cavity for good measure. He couldn't breathe. This wasn't right. He'd suffered gunshot wounds before—hell, all sorts of injuries—and he'd never experienced anything like this.

He sucked in a shallow breath. “Silver?”

“Maybe. You're not healing like you should.”
Hammer laid a meaty palm on his shoulder. “We're close to the compound. Hang on, buddy.”

That look on his friend's face, in his eyes. Nick knew in that moment he was in real trouble. This was a mortal injury, even for a born wolf. And Zander was still restricted from performing a healing of this magnitude.

“Calla,” he managed.

“Tarron's sister? What about her?”

“Mate.”

Hammer frowned. “I don't understand.”

“Calla's mine,” he wheezed. “She'll come.”

“Shit! Got it.” Hammer squeezed his shoulder. “We'll get her there.”

“I don't have her number, but I'm calling Tarron now,” Jax said.

Vaguely, Nick heard Jax shouting into his cell phone. He wondered what the vampire would make of his sister being summoned to save a wolf. And not just any wolf—her mate. Then he decided he didn't give two shits.

Calla was coming, and that was all that mattered. Could be he wasn't ready to give up, after all.

The copter started its descent just as his lungs gave up the ghost. Thrashing, he fought to take in air that would no longer come. His vision darkened, and regret consumed him.

Not yet. Can't give up.

Then he knew nothing more.

*   *   *

“Calla!”

Tarron's bellow thundered down the rocky corridor outside her room, and Calla jumped. The book she was reading tumbled from her hands and
thunk
ed to the floor, making her lose her place. Irritated, she crossed to the door and flung it open.

“Can you
ever
simply knock and say my name in a normal tone instead of shouting the mountain down over our heads?” She rested a hand on her hip and glared at him as he came to a stop at the door to her chambers.

Her annoyance went unnoticed and he appeared to be in a hurry. “I just got a call from Jax Law. He said the Alpha Pack was out on a mission and Nick was shot by hunters during the gun battle.”

She gasped, holding on to the doorframe for support. “Oh, gods. How is he?”

“Not good. Jax said the bullet must be silver or something, because he's not healing. He wants you to come, says you're the only one who can help him. They're rushing back to the compound by helicopter as we speak.”

“Of course! Let's go.” She grabbed for his hand, but he held back.

“Wait a second. Why
you
when I could help him just as easily?” he demanded. “What's going on, sis?”

“I'll explain later. There isn't time right now.”

“I'm not going to like this, am I?” His expression was grim.

“Later,” she stressed.

“Fine, but I expect some answers soon.”

At least her brother cared, as Nick had pointed out. That was damned hard to remember when he stuck his nose into every aspect of her life. Without waiting for Tarron, she transported herself to the Pack's compound, landing on the lawn again. Since she'd never been inside and didn't know the layout, it seemed the safest bet.

As Tarron appeared beside her, she looked around for anyone who might escort her to where she needed to go. She spotted Selene waving frantically from the back door and took off. As she stopped in front of Selene, she grabbed the woman's hand, heart thumping.

“Are they here yet?”

Selene's face was pinched, eyes red. “No, but they're only minutes out. Come on—we'll meet them at the new building. The hospital there has newer equipment and a much better setup than what we were using in the compound. That has to help Dad, right?”

“I'm sure it will,” she said, hoping it was true.

But the reality was, Nick's team wouldn't have called in Calla if it wasn't absolutely necessary.
If you're a paranormal being and you need a vampire to save your life, you're in serious trouble.

She and Tarron followed Nick's daughter to the new building she'd spoken of. Etched into the stonework itself was the word
SANCTUARY
. As they pushed through the glass doors and walked inside, she thought the name was fitting. Warm and inviting, this did indeed look like a place dedicated to helping others find peace.

There was no time to appreciate their surroundings or the important work being done there, however. They got on an elevator and rode it to the hospital floor at the top, then got off. A team of doctors and nurses was waiting for the helicopter's arrival, and none too patiently. A blond male nurse was pacing the hallway, clearly anxious. The second he spotted Selene, he trotted over to her.

“Was anyone else injured?”

“Phoenix is fine, Noah,” she said. “Dad was the only one seriously hurt.”

Noah winced, appearing guilty. “I'm sorry. It's just . . .”

“No need to apologize. Believe me, I get it. I was worried about Zan, too. But you can't let it get to you every single time they go out, or you'll go nuts.”

“I know, but it's hard.” His voice was quiet.

Was Noah mated to Phoenix? If not, the two were apparently close.

“It gets harder. Trust me.”

That made him chuckle. “Thanks. Your pep talks are the bombdiggity.”

Before Selene could reply, a rumble from outside came closer and closer, until the sound was almost like thunder. It was right above them, and Calla realized the new building must have a helipad for emergencies such as this one. Everyone mobilized, and another nurse urged a protesting Selene, as well as Tarron, to a waiting room down the hall.

“Come with us,” a female doctor said to Calla.

She recognized the doctor from the party. Mackenzie Grant was mated to the Sorcerer/panther shifter Kalen Black. They had a cute new baby boy named Kai. Those facts rushed through her head, and she thought of how she'd been smiling and socializing with these people merely days ago. To be in the middle of a serious personal crisis of this sort with them now, especially involving Nick, was strange and disorienting.

But there was nowhere else on earth she'd rather be when he required her help.

The OR was ready when the trauma team filed in, every surface shiny and each instrument gleaming. They wouldn't stay that way for long, though. Calla clasped her hands to stop their shaking while they waited. Soon, heavy footsteps came down the hallway, moving fast. She heard a gurney being pushed along, orders barked.

And then several men from Nick's team burst through the OR's doors with their commander. She gasped at the horrible sight of his shirt and
body armor soaked in blood, a gaping hole almost exactly centered in his chest. How could anyone survive a wound like that one? If he was human, he would've been dead already.

Dr. Grant moved aside for another female doctor, who immediately took charge. This one had shorter, straighter hair than Mackenzie, but it still brushed her collar.
DR. MELINA MALLORY
, her tag read. Calla recalled meeting the prickly woman before also.

Noah swiftly ran a tube down Nick's throat so the respirator could breathe for him. Then he removed the commander's vest and used a pair of scissors to cut his T-shirt up the middle. The ruined material was discarded and the nurse began to wipe the area. Dr. Mallory quickly assessed the damage.

Wearing latex gloves and grabbing some sort of probe, she began to dig inside the wound, which made Calla's stomach lurch dangerously.

“Single gunshot wound, one punctured lung. The bullet is still lodged in there, close to his heart, so I'll get that out before we attempt any healing.”

Dr. Mallory's voice was so cold and clinical, it made Calla shiver. But the woman seemed good at her job, and she took a small amount of comfort from that. She watched, barely breathing, as Nick fought for his life. And he
was
fighting, hard. She sensed that even though they weren't Bonded, and it made her proud of him.

After what seemed an eternity, yet was probably only a couple of minutes, the doctor fished out a large bloody bullet. “Silver,” she announced. “Those rotten bastards.”

Calla couldn't agree more. Noah held out a container and the doctor placed the bullet in it.

Noah sealed the container and held it up. “Rush it to the lab for tests?”

“Absolutely. I don't like the looks of this tissue around where the bullet was sitting. It's dying too quickly.”

Calla's hand went over her mouth. Only her desire to see Nick get well prevented her from running from the room. “My blood can't heal flesh that's already dead.”

The doctor gave her a sharp look. “Of course not. I'm going to clean away the necrotized tissue first.” Dr. Mallory continued her work, completely focused. Once she was done, she stepped back and nodded to Calla. “All right. Let's get some of your blood into him and speed along his recovery.”

On shaking legs, she stepped up to the gurney and peered down at Nick's chest. Cleaned up, the wound didn't gape quite as much as she'd first believed, but then again, perhaps it had started healing now that the silver had been removed. In any case, he needed help. He was pale from blood loss.

Noah offered to make the cut on her wrist with
a scalpel. “It'll hurt less than using your fangs or something.”

She nodded and allowed him to execute the cut, then quickly held her wrist over the commander's chest and let the life-giving fluid flow into the wound. The effects were immediate. The ragged flesh began to return to a healthy pink, and slowly knitted together from the inside out. Nick's face was still pale, his body still, but the worry that he'd die gradually drained away.