Consumed

  “With Lance?” Humor lifted the corners of her lips.

  Baye twisted his neck to see beyond a stack of buoys. “Maybe. If he can get over the damn psychologist.”

  “I’ll think about it. But, really, I’m not taking dating advice from a lion who goes through women like cat treats.” In fact, she’d never seen Baye get serious about any woman.

  “I’m too young to settle down.”

  “You’re over four hundred years old.”

  “Exactly.”

  Katie chuckled. Then, a scent ... an intent carried in with the breeze. Dark images of death and blood filled her vision. Holy crap. Was the werewolf waiting? Couldn’t be. He’d be underground until the full moon. Storing his strength. She pushed the grotesque vision out of her brain. “I think the werewolf is here.” Too bad Lance hadn’t stayed.

  Baye’s shoulders went back. “Werewolves stay hidden until the full moon.” Even so, the shifter’s stance dropped to fight, his body going deadly still.

  “This one’s different.” The bastard was close—she just knew it. She cupped her hands around her mouth so her voice would reach the rafters. Maybe more than bats and water spiders hung out in the high beams. “Come on out, Snuggles. I know you’re there.”

  Baye snorted. “Snuggles?”

  “I got tired of thinking of him as ‘sociopathic monster.’ So I named him Snuggles.” She kept her tone matter-of-fact. In truth, the werewolf scared the crap out of her. She felt him ... he carried more inside than mere beast. A darkness, oily and evil, slid through the images she gleaned. No way had he been a decent man before turning into a werewolf. Researching him had led nowhere. She had no clue what his name had been—many werewolves didn’t have files. Unfortunately.

  “He’s underground, Kate.” Baye’s cautious surveying of the area belied his words. “But I do find it interesting he’s stayed around town with us taking so many of his kind down.”

  “No you don’t.” She reached for the knife along her calf, eyeing an empty berth at the end of the dock. A yacht horn blared lonely and sad in the far distance. Waves lapped up on the shore. “As always, you have a hypothesis.”

  He shifted his weight, stepping in front of her to inch down the dock. Blocking her. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  She hustled to his side, growling when he elbowed her back. “Get out of my way.”

  “Rules. You sense, you direct ... you do not fight.” Baye kept his voice low, his gaze forward. “There’s something up ahead, I sense some type of animal. Maybe good old Snuggles is living on the water full-time now.”

  “I’m an excellent fighter.” Sure, she’d lost some ability from the incredibly slow progression of the virus. But she could still fight. The fact that part of her wanted to run and hide from the brute forced her shoulders back and her feet into motion. The second she let evil intimidate her, she lost.

  “Rules.”

  “Screw the rules.” If Baye had a clue as to the nightmares this werewolf had given her, he’d try to force her out of the field. Could Snuggles actually be near? “We have one night to get this guy before you head home and I go to Oregon.” She’d go with Jordan just to get him there for Emma to experiment on. To cure. Then she’d figure out the rest of her life.

  A boom echoed behind her. She swiveled, her back smashing into the bow of a pleasure yacht. Bruises cut deep, and she bit her lip to keep from groaning. Feet braced, hair bristling, a seven-foot werewolf stood in the middle of the narrow dock. The stench of unwashed animal assaulted her nostrils. Her eyes actually burned.

  Baye shoved her behind him.

  Another hairy beast leapt out of the shadows to block her way. She angled around, pressing her shoulders against Baye’s back. They both dropped into fighting stances.

  Images of death and such pleasure taken in killing almost dropped Katie to the ground. She yanked mental shields into place. Her chest tightened. Her hands dampened. Drawing on years of training, she settled her mind and tilted her head to the side, studying the deep black fur of the monster in front of her. Intelligent yellow eyes glinted in the dim moonlight. Adrenaline shot through her tissues, shooting the night into pinpoint focus. Why wasn’t he attacking? “Well now, Snuggles. We finally meet face-to-face.” Her voice wavered slightly.

  He lifted his long snout, sniffing. “Kaattieee.”

  Low, mournful, nearly gleeful, his voice spiraled true fear into her gut.

  Baye stiffened against her. “Did he just fucking talk?”

  “I, uh ...” Katie gasped out. “No way. Just a weird growl.”

  The monster flashed sharp, yellowed canines. “Kaattieee. Kaattieee.” He sniffed again. “Been watching Kaattieee.”

  On all that was holy. Werewolves didn’t speak.

  Baye growled. “Kate, circle to your left. I want to face this asshole.”

  The werewolf shook his head. Thick fur flew. “No. Kaattieee mine.” He bunched his legs. “Now.”

  Boards creaked. The other werewolf charged, rushing into Baye and sending Katie flying. Right into the arms of the beast. Fur slammed up her nostrils. He grabbed her, lifting up. With a snarl, she shoved her knife into his throat, slamming her head into his nose.

  He dropped her, howling in pain. She landed on her ass, bouncing on the wet dock. Hurt shot up her tailbone. Fear caught in her lungs. His claws swiped out, grabbing her by the hair. Blood gushed when he yanked the knife from his neck, throwing the blade into the water.

  Pain lanced her scalp as he jerked her up. His other hand shot out, claws scraping down her arm. Agony flared along her nerves, the skin flayed open.

  She opened her mouth in a silent scream. Tears clogged her vision.

  Baye and the other werewolf tumbled into the lake, teeth flashing and claws emerging. Bubbles shot to the surface. Baye needed to shift.

  Jordan’s voice slammed into her head. So many lessons in self-defense had been required of her growing up. Think. Accept the reality ... and think. Bending her leg, she kneed the werewolf in the groin.

  He howled, releasing her, stepping back. His irises turned red. Then he smiled.

  Darting out his long tongue, he licked red off his claws. Blood. Her blood. A low rumble came from deep in his chest. “I ... find ... you ... now ... Kaattieee.”

  Nausea swirled in her belly. Taking a step back, she slid a gun from her ankle holster, aiming between his eyes. Silver bullets—they wouldn’t kill him, but they’d knock him down long enough so she could remove his head. But first ... “Who were you? Do you know?”

  He licked one claw clean, a low moan filling the night.

  She needed to puke. “Who—were—you?”

  His paw dropped to his side and he smacked his lips. “Me.”

  “Yes, you.” If he’d evolved, what had happened to the virus? Should she try to keep him alive? Could he be the key to curing it? Would dead blood be as good to Emma as freshly pumping blood?

  “Me.” He stretched his neck, eyeing the moon. “Not Snuggles.”

  “No. Not Snuggles.” God. She wanted to kill him. But what if the cure ran through his blood? Or at least a mutation of the virus that allowed him to evolve. “What was your name?”

  Several berths down, Baye leaped out of the water in cougar form. Oh, he was going to be angry. He hated the water in any form ... especially cougar. The salt had matted his unusually dark coat, turning his fur nearly black. Seconds later, the werewolf followed, landing on the cat. With a screech of outrage, Baye flipped around and went for the monster’s throat.

  The werewolf in front of Katie turned, viewed the fight, then shrugged and refocused back on her. Sparks lit his odd eyes. “My name not Jordan.”

  Everything inside Katie silenced. Stilled. “You know Jordan?”

  “Saw Jordan. Visit you.” The beast’s snout lifted in a fierce snarl. “Jordan baaaad.”

  The werewolf had been watching her? Her breath began to pant out. So much for hiding out until the full moon. The beasts were evolving into
a more dangerous threat to all beings than they’d realized. “Did you know Jordan before?”

  “Yeesss.”

  She’d shoot him in the leg if it would gain his cooperation. More likely, he’d charge and rip her throat out. If she fired, she needed to kill. “One last chance. Who were you?”

  A huge splash sounded as Baye and the werewolf fell into the lake again.

  The werewolf eyed the gun. “Brrenntt.”

  “Brent? Your name was Brent?”

  “Yeesss. Brrenntt.”

  The cougar scrambled up the dock, slipping.

  Faster than wind, Brent jumped on top of the boat, leaping for the next berth. Fiberglass cracked with a loud protest. Katie yelped and fired, bullets ricocheting off the bow. A second later, the monster disappeared.

  The air shimmered and Baye shifted from cougar to wet, pissed-off male. He stalked forward, buck-ass naked. “I smell blood. God, he didn’t bite you, did he?”

  “No.” Werewolves infected humans by biting them ... the bites had no effect on shifters. Of course, Katie wasn’t quite a shifter anymore, so there might be a risk. “I have a nick on my arm.” Katie averted her eyes from the sight of a lot of male flesh. “Did you kill the other werewolf?”

  “Yes, I bit his throat out, decapitating him.” Baye grabbed her wrist, flipping her arm over. “Jesus, Kate. You won’t need stitches, but it’ll hurt for a while.”

  That wasn’t the half of it. Brent had the taste of her blood. Every instinct she owned screamed he wanted more of it.

  Chapter 4

  Katie awoke to a warm rain splashing her window an hour before dawn. She’d managed about thirty minutes of sleep—the pain in her arm kept her awake most of the night. Residue remained in her head from the run-in with the werewolf ... tarlike and painful. All werewolves were monsters, but Brent went beyond animalistic. Truly evil, he needed to be stopped.

  Her pink kitten-shaped clock flipped numbers over to reveal the early time. Lance had given her the goofy clock as a joke a few months back, but she kind of liked the color.

  A sound caught her attention. Her heart increased in tempo. Someone waited in the living room. A quiet presence. Considering Maggie had been away at the labs for the last month, whoever hovered in there wasn’t invited.

  Darkness slid inside and a shadow filled her doorway.

  Scooting back, sitting up, she reached for the light.

  Jordan leaned negligently against the door frame. “Told you to be ready.”

  Relief relaxed her shoulders. She shoved long, sandy-colored hair away from her face. The pattering rain was failing to dispel the muggy air. “You really need to learn to knock.”

  “I’ll work on it.”

  Silence stretched out. Even from across the room, she could feel his heat. Male and strong. In her bedroom. Why hadn’t she worn the sexy negligee Maggie bought for her last birthday instead of a ratty old T-shirt? Her chest began to ache. She cleared her throat. “I read a file on you earlier.”

  “I figured.”

  Something inside her fissured. “How were you infected?”

  He glanced around the soft yellow room, interest lighting his eyes. “The Kurjans attacked feline headquarters. Arrows tipped with the virus. Good plan.”

  She tugged up the deep green bedspread that perfectly matched the one on Jordan’s bed. God, hopefully he wouldn’t notice the similarity. “Anybody else infected?”

  “No.” His gaze landed on the pretty desk in the corner he’d carved for her sixteenth birthday.

  “So you were the target?” Made sense. Jordan was the most powerful leader in the shifter world—take him out and more chaos would ensue.

  “Probably.” He straightened his pose and tilted his head toward three watercolors lining the wall. “Those are by Brenna Dunne.”

  “Yes.” The young witch was incredibly talented. “We’re friends. When Maggie and I moved here, we asked Brenna to paint us a couple forest scenes.” Forest scenes reminding Katie of home. Reminding her of safety, family, and Jordan.

  “Hmmm.” Jordan shook his head, eyes focusing as he faced her fully. “I have four days to get things in order. We should get going.”

  Something didn’t quite track. If she ended up being confined to headquarters, then she’d rather be at home with her people. Even though she couldn’t shift, she was still a shifter, darn it. “Why don’t you want me at home?”

  “I’m endorsing Noah as leader of the feline nation. Some people won’t agree, and it’ll be dangerous until he proves himself. I need Baye at home to help Mac cover his back.” The three brothers had served as Jordan’s enforcers for centuries. The feline nation was a monarchy, and Jordan had no family. Nobody waited to ascend and lead, so there’d be fights until one victor emerged. Jordan ran a rough hand through his tawny hair, leaving it mussed.

  Her hands were jealous. “I spoke with Emma earlier.”

  A genuine smile tipped his lips. Finally. “How is the Queen of the Realm?”

  “Good. She said they might have an antiviral for the virus based on both Maggie’s blood and the sample you sent right after being infected.” After all this time, could they have found a cure?

  “That’d be great.” Jordan’s inflection didn’t change. Lightning cracked outside, brightening the room. “Don’t get your hopes up. We both know there isn’t enough time for me, but maybe for others.” He took a step inside, bringing the scent of wild male with him.

  An unwelcome hurt chilled her legs. “Why didn’t you call me? I mean, when you were infected?”

  He stilled, lifting both eyebrows. “I came as soon as I knew the results.”

  “I could’ve worried with you while you waited for confirmation.” Why couldn’t he see her as an adult—as someone he could count on? “You can trust me.”

  “I do trust you.”

  No, he didn’t. In fact, Jordan didn’t really trust anybody. “You don’t have to be so all alone all the time.” Ruling a nation took a strong hand, and Jordan held strength in bulk. But Dage ruled with family around ... with friends being a part of his life. Why couldn’t Jordan?

  Irritation cut lines to the sides of his mouth. “Let’s discuss my leadership issues another day. I don’t suppose you’ve packed?”

  “No.”

  “We can do this my way, Katie ... or my way.” Then his head lifted. His eyes darkened.. “I smell blood.”

  Shit. “I, ah, cut my arm. No big deal.”

  Two strides and he sat on the bed, reaching for her bandaged arm, zeroing right in. “What cut you?” His voice lowered to deadly.

  She shivered in her thin T-shirt. “Ah, well, a werewolf?”

  He ran his fingers along the side of the bandage. “Tonight?” Puzzlement combined with anger in his frown. “The moon isn’t full. Did you find a lair?”

  “No.” She trembled but not from the cold. The contrast in Jordan’s gentle touch and dangerous tone caused a warming in her belly. A tingling in her thighs. Man, she needed to concentrate. “Baye and I went looking for the place we think he’ll go when the moon is full ... at the marina ... and he was, uh, there tonight. He’s evolved, Jordan. Actually spoke to me.” Kind of.

  Jordan straightened. Doubt filled his eyes. “A werewolf spoke to you?”

  “Yes. He said his name was Brent, and he knew you. Didn’t like you much.”

  “Brent? Couldn’t be.” Jordan frowned, gently setting her arm on the bedspread. For two seconds, he didn’t move enough to even breathe. Then he exhaled, his jaw hardening. “I have calls to make.” He stood, crossing the room in three strides, lifting his cell phone to his ear. “You have an hour to pack.”

  Glass shattered.

  Shards flew from the window to cover her bedspread.

  Fur shone in the moonlight, and a low growl vibrated as a werewolf leaped inside, landing solidly on two feet. He sniffed, straightening to his full height.

  Jordan pivoted, snapping the phone shut.

  Oh God. Katie scooted fa
rther back against the headboard, her heart slamming behind her ribs. Her mental shields dropped into place, protecting her from evil. The smell of wet dog made her cough. Calm. She needed to stay calm to think. “Jordan, meet Brent.”

  The two studied each other. Rain splashed inside, droplets glimmering on her polished oak floors.

  Weird. This was too weird. The werewolf should be going for their throats, not staring at Jordan with an amused glint in his yellow eyes.

  She had a gun in the nightstand. Slowly, casually, she reached for the drawer.

  “No,” Brent growled, keeping his gaze on Jordan. “No, Kaattiieee.”

  “Jesus.” Jordan shoved his phone in his pocket. “When did you evolve enough to talk?” He eyed Katie and the beast, anger darkening his smooth skin.

  Yeah. The bed lay between Jordan and Brent. Not a good place to be in her flimsy shirt without any weapons.

  Jordan moved toward the bed.

  “Stop.” Brent flashed yellow teeth in a parody of a smile. “I talk. I think. I hunt.” He jerked his head toward Katie. “Miiiine.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong. Kate, get out of bed and come here.” Jordan’s skin shimmered. A growl, deadlier than the one issued by Brent, rumbled from his twisted lips. “You said you know me?”

  “Yeesss.” Brent moved his hairy body closer to the bed. “Brennnt Bowwmn.”

  Jordan snarled.

  Katie froze. Animalistic tension swirled through the room, raising the hair on the back of her neck. As a smart woman, she knew her limitations from the damn virus—getting between two shifted animals trying to kill each other would end badly. Hopefully Jordan wouldn’t shift.

  Jordan took another step toward her, his hands clenching into fists. “I thought I killed you. Three hundred years ago.”

  Brent shrugged a massive shoulder, sending fur rolling down his body. “No. Almooossst. You left tennndon attached in neck. I had to diiiig out of graaaave.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Jordan said, his voice a low tenor Katie had never heard. “How long you been a werewolf?”