Hayden widened his stance and balled his fists. That was the wrong thing to say to a former agent of the Wicked Grove Supernatural Regulatory Agency.
Chapter Seven
* * *
Blood and Snow
Hayden hardened his eyes. This Alpha had it coming to him, and he was glad he’d be the one to crush him. He felt his animal fighting to surface, and now that the fight had escalated, he was glad to oblige.
Both Gregory and Hayden morphed into wolves, fur sprouting and bones stretching as their bodies adjusted. Hayden was far clumsier in the transition, still unused to the transformation. If anyone thought shifting was a painless thing, they had another thing coming to them. It hurt. Every bone shift, every crack, and dislocation was felt, and Hayden fought the pain. Eventually, Tully said it would go away and he’d no longer feel the shift, for he’d transform so fast, he wouldn’t notice.
It was this lag that found him with Gregory’s fangs around his leg. He kicked and snapped at the Alpha, trying to loosen his grip. Finally, one jerk succeeded, sending the other wolf off his center and onto his side. Hayden jumped to all fours and snarled, lunging forward and grasping onto the side of Gregory’s neck.
Hold on. Don’t let go, no matter what. He’ll die if you just hold onto him there.
Tully’s voice again resonated through his skull, like a headache. He’d have to get used to her way of speaking in his brain. He was sure that with time, it wouldn’t feel so odd. He did as she said and clamped down onto the vulnerable flesh he now held in his mouth.
Gregory struggled under him, whining and growling at the same time. He jerked, pulled away, and rolled on the ground, attempting to shake Hayden off. The new wolf didn’t let go, even with the rush of bright, warm blood filling his mouth and cascading down his fur. It was almost as painful to hold onto Gregory, for he felt every buck and jerk in his jaw, neck, and spine.
Eventually, Gregory weakened and could no long thrash his body around. As the lifeblood left him, he slumped to the ground, breathing hard before his eyelids closed and all movement ceased. Hayden finally let go of his death grip, his teeth aching from the fight. Blood trailed down his chin and dripped onto the ground, melting pits into the snow. It took him a moment to focus and morph back into human form, but he managed it and stood on his wobbly feet, afraid he’d collapse from the extreme fatigue.
Tully ran to him, took his hand, and held it high. Blood glistened down his neck and across his chest. The crowd around them stood in stunned silence for a moment, but then a roaring cheer broke through and everyone began to clap.
Talia approached the two, as calm and serene as ever, even though her mate lay dead in the snow. She reached out and touched his chest with her palm. He felt a jolt of magic crackle where their skin touched, but she dropped her arm and gave him a curt nod.
“Hayden, soldier of Wicked Grove. You are now Alpha of the Blood Snow pack. Welcome, and I pledge my allegiance to your rightful leadership.”
She dropped to her knees and bowed her head. The rest of the pack followed suit, until all but Tully were on their knees, heads bent.
He turned to look at Tully, unsure if she was going to join as well.
“My king,” she said. “I am at your service, always and forever, until death.”
She joined the rest of the pack on her knees, and Hayden swallowed back his hesitation. Letting his eyes fall over the pack that was now “his,” he felt his stomach knot up. How could he lead this pack? What would become of them under his rule? If Gregory had only been civil and taken responsibility for biting Hayden, he wouldn’t have had to die and could still be leading them. It was the last thing Hayden had wanted. He was a loner, not a leader, so this didn’t fit in with him at all.
“Please, Tully. Stand up.” She got to her feet, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “I can’t lead your pack. I’m not the one for the job.”
“You are. You’ve been chosen. Don’t worry; you will learn the ways of the pack.”
“Chosen?” He peered at her, curious about her statement. “What do you mean?”
“The power of the pack called to you the night Tully found you,” Talia answered. “And Gregory was inadvertently chosen to lead you here. You are what our pack needs. In time, you will see. It is not something you are born to; you have been chosen, and there is no escaping it.”
Hayden took in what Talia said and wondered if it could be true. Staring down at Gregory’s body, which was now transformed back to human, he couldn’t fathom how he could have been chosen. As he turned toward Tully, who was draping his naked body with his coat, reminding him that it was freezing, he knew he had to learn more about these supernatural beings. His Agency had known a little, but they had been wrong that they were nothing but wild, uncontainable monsters. He would have to work to make it right between them all.
“Hey.” He turned to Tully and pulled her closer. “We missed our wedding,” he whispered as she pulled the sides of his coat together.
She grinned, blinking her pretty eyes at him. “No, we didn’t. The party is just getting started.” k12
**Keep reading for some amazing sneak peeks at stories you’ll love!**
Sneak Peek:
Twice Bitten, Broad Gate Pack Series 1
by Morgan Jane Mitchell
The moon loomed over the horizon looking so fat I could fall into it. An apricot rising outside the lone window, it’d lured me out of the building. As if in a trance, I stepped out onto the balcony. One after another, I snapped off my latex gloves, sticking them in my coat pocket to dispose of later. They weren’t too dirty, not really. The moon had interrupted preparing Mr. Doe for Dr. Downey. I’d only just gotten the corpse on the table.
Never seeing a moon so large before, I felt the corners of my mouth creep up in satisfaction. It was certainly bigger than it’d been last night when it had been full. Witnessing something so surreally beautiful for a second time, I felt lucky, happy. I took a deep breath as if I could inhale my own feelings along with the crisp night air. Spring was long gone but tonight was cool, the wind a pleasant afterthought of a steamy July day. I reached behind my head and pulled the tie to let the breeze take my thick dark curls. All the while, I hadn’t taken my eyes off the heavenly sight. The noise of the city disappeared, and it was just the waning moon and me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting the moment. I looked down to another glow, a text from Brenda informing me she’d be later than she’d thought.
There’s been a wreck on St. Peter’s Bridge. You can go on without me.
Oh no! Be careful. I typed back before I noticed the time.
It was later than I’d supposed, 10:30 even though I thought I just stepped out moments ago, around ten. Taking one last look at the sky, I stuffed my phone back into my slacks. Squinting, I strode back into the florescent light to rush down the stairs and then the hall. Pushing open the steel door, I read our new plaque hanging at the entrance. “Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae” —This is the place where death rejoices to help those who live. I felt rejoiceful myself. If I hurried, I’d be halfway through the autopsy when Dr. Brenda Downey arrived. Being only an assistant, I couldn’t always work on my own, and how I loved to be alone!
It wasn’t that I didn‘t like Brenda, heavens no, but I just didn’t like people in general, live people anyway. Mr. Doe and I got along just fine. There was no awkwardness with a dead person.
“Mr. Doe, oh, what’s that? I should call you John?” I bent over and scrunched my hair back into a high ponytail. I tugged on a fresh pair of gloves and put on my full mask, something Brenda would say was a bit overkill. She didn’t bat an eye at doing a full autopsy in her street clothes. She’d say she’d gotten Hep. B or something before I was even born or tell me some other horror story. It sure as hell never convinced me to abandon my protective gear.
I searched for my favorite scalpel, the one with the ruler on the blade. Studying the corpse, I sighed. Unfortunately, Mr.
Doe was a gunshot wound to the chest. His shirt laid open where they’d tried to save him. We were no longer looking for what killed him but rather who. Being called in for a late night homicide was becoming more and more regular around here. At least a tech had already gotten an x-ray and measurements, so I went on to my external examination.
“Flannel—in this heat?”
The corpse’s shirtsleeves were rolled up. His forearms and hands were dirty but not with dried blood. I collected a sample of the dirt under his nails. Opening an eyelid, I shined a light in, noting his pale blue eyes for the chart which already stated he weighed 220 pounds and was 6’2.
Also noticing he had no wedding ring, no indentation of one either, “What a shame,” I moaned aloud. Since he’d come in with no wallet, keys or anything, someone hadn’t just shot him. They’d robbed him too, which was sadly usually the case. Straightening my momentary frown, I turned on my recorder and began stating my findings, “White male, late 20s, sandy blond, mid-length hair, blue eyes, jeans, flannel, muscular build.” I paused, realizing I sounded a bit dreamy for a second. However, I was still wondering how he’d survived the day without spontaneously combusting since it was still hot in here. Especially with the hospital suffering from budget cuts and all. A bead of sweat ran down my forehead, aggravating since I couldn’t wipe it away.
I’d have to cool down or next sweat would run in my eyes, stinging them. My eyes naturally traveled to the door of the cooler. Taking a break in our cold room was out of the question. Nowadays, there were usually safeguards that kept the doors from accidentally closing behind you and locking you in with all the dead bodies. We didn’t have those safeguards. Luckily, our techs had no qualms about retrieving bodies for me. Glancing at my white coat, I decided from a safety standpoint, I didn’t actually need it except to keep my clothes clean. Laying down my recorder, I shrugged off my uniform of choice. I loathed scrubs. I unbuttoned the first few buttons on my short-sleeved blouse. I wouldn’t miss this shirt, especially if it meant the sweat might stop rolling down my back.
Wouldn’t Brenda be proud of me?
“I know, it’s going a bit fast for me too,” I joked, undressing him. Taking off his steal toed boots before his pants, I saw they were caked with mud. After bagging his clothes, I searched for identifying marks. “Birthmark left hip, three parallel scars on lower abdomen, symmetrical tattoos on upper biceps and another over his left pectoral, gunshot wound through it.” I took pictures, making sure to focus in on the tats. He must’ve been an animal lover, awe, how sweet. Next, I made a mental note of everything I still needed to collect, blood, urine, vitreous humour, gastric contents, bile, liver, hair, things Brenda would’ve done already if she was here.
I’d start with his eye. Holding my 16-gauge needle, I leaned over him. “You do have beautiful eyes, Mr. Doe.”
Suddenly, there was a crash behind me. I about jumped out of my skin. “Sweet Mary!” I blew out a breath, holding my chest. My head whipped around only to find my recorder lying in the middle of the tile floor. Goose pimples creeped up my arms so I tore off my gloves to rub them away. It’d been a long time since I’d been scared while alone with a dead body. I savored the reaction, just like I had my euphoria triggered by the enormous moon earlier.
“Must have fallen off,” I announced to no one as I bent over to pick up my recorder. Just as my hand gripped the small rectangle of obsolete technology, I heard another noise, a person moving about. My heart quickened, but regardless, I wouldn’t be surprised so easily again.
“Brenda?” I asked confidently, coming up to stand. My eyes found the steel door still closed, the only entrance back here. Just as I figured the noise couldn’t be from Dr. Downey, something big crashed into me, knocking me to the ground. I landed bad, sliding a bit as all 220 pounds of corpse, landed on me, pinning me down. Pain shot through my shoulder, neck and back before fear hit me in the pit of my stomach. Horror movies ran through my head before more rational reasoning. Calm down, I told myself, there had to be some mistake. I blinked twice wondering if I would wake up. This all had to be a dream. The dead man’s head slumped lifelessly onto my chest as I waited to wake. I kicked around, planning to roll out from under the body, thinking that maybe this was a fluke. Maybe the table had given out in some strange manner and catapulted the corpse at me like an undead cannonball. I giggled aloud at my absurd luck—this was going to make a great story!
As always, laughter calmed me, but in the same moment of peace, I heard a low rumble.
Holy shit.
Dead moments ago, Mr. Doe was very much alive now. His dead eyes opened, staring at me like he was just as confused as I was. Before I could scream, his teeth sank into my shoulder.
***
I walked out of the hospital the next morning in a mood. They’d given me a rabies shot, a shot of antibiotics, five stitches and a prescription for pain meds but no explanation. They drew blood to make sure the guy didn’t give me an STD. That they cared about! I would’ve too if there hadn’t been another fact bothering me.
The man had been dead
I had no doubt in my mind even if everything that’d happened after the bite was sort of a blur. I didn’t know which way the man ran off or how long I’d been lying on the floor when Brenda found me. All I knew was they needed to look for a naked hunk with a hole through his chest. I signed myself out after no one would listen to me, not even the cop who finally showed up this morning. Asshole asked the nurse if they found anything in my system. Screw protocol, I wouldn’t wait for a ride. Home was walking distance, and I was fine.
Spooked but fine.
Only five blocks from the hospital, Broad Gate Park stood where it had for hundreds of years. The gated community on the edge of the city made the well to do feel safe outside of suburbia. I wasn’t one of them, but my grandparents had been. I was lucky enough to inherit their city home if nothing else when my parents died two years ago. According to my parent’s wishes, their lawyer donated everything but the house that they’d inherited from my mother’s family only the previous year. My parent’s generous hearts left me with the burden of the taxes and up keep on a home too big for my solitary life, forcing me to move here six months ago.
I dug in my red backpack to retrieve my keycard. One swipe would open the big iron gates. If I had a car, a nifty radio transmitted device would open the gates automatically when I drove up. It was a bit ridiculous, the tall gates swinging open just for the likes of me. Nevertheless, I waited until it opened completely, just like I were a car, before I hiked my backpack up higher on my shoulder and strolled in. I waited for it to shut too. Heaven forbid, I be the one to let an outsider wander in. I thought about Casey, the old homeless man who liked to sneak in and sleep on our benches. I rolled my eyes remembering the accusations from my neighbors. “She walks in the gate,” they alleged in disgust, like their vehicles repelled strangers from the entrance. That was the last time I attended a homeowners’ meeting. Since then, I’d pretty much kept to myself.
Leaving the littered city, I always noticed the streets inside the gates were impeccable—I could eat off them. An arboretum of flowers greeted me as I walked farther up the cobblestone street. Here, I could actually wake up and smell the roses. Victorian style street lamps that switched on at dusk lined the sidewalks. The twenty-four-hour surveillance and high stone walls did make me feel safe, especially after the night I had last night.
Safe—I turned my head to see Kimber coming up behind me. The one person I did know well in this neighborhood stopped but jogged in place. “Fia, you’re out and about early.” Her eyes landed on my bandaged neck, and she started to ask.
Holding up my hand, I promised, “I’ll tell you about it later, ‘kay. I just want to sleep.”
Nodding, she ran on. That’s why I liked her. She gave me my space. She also knew my job meant crazy hours, not to knock on my door before the afternoon and not to speak to me unless I’d had my coffee.
I reached my dead-end street w
ithout seeing another soul. Turning the corner, I spotted my house right away amongst the colorful Victorian style homes lining this street. Three stories tall and narrow with a wraparound porch and steep turrets just like the others, it’d been beautiful at one time. Looking quite haunted now, it needed a fresh coat of yellow paint, some that wouldn’t peel like the paint did now, and new shingles, things I couldn’t afford. I could barely push mow and weed the yard before it became a jungle. On the opposite end of the spectrum, the last house on the block stood out like an even sorer thumb. Castle like and oozing with pretension, my closest neighbor, a dark gothic mansion sat up a little hill staring down at us all, making all the fancy houses look like wannabes. I couldn’t help but stare at it. No—I decided the house wanted me to look. It called out for my attention like it was starved.
As I watched, a black sports car I’d never seen before drove down that hill. In the same instant, an enraptured feeling thundered through me, about bowling me over. Quickly, I rushed to my door, reaching it just as the car passed. I dashed inside and leaned heavy against the door. I was out of breath and fought to catch it. An embarrassment spread across my cheeks, making them burn up. I went straight to the couch in front of my window air conditioner to cool them down. I only used the front rooms to save on utilities, and it sufficed. I didn’t bother undressing before I lied down on my back and covered myself with my favorite thin quilt. Lucy, my three-colored cat jumped up to lay on my chest as always.
Although so tired, I couldn’t sleep thinking of how the man driving by had felt. Had his longing been directed at me or was he merely thinking of his lover as he drove by? I didn’t know, but it’d been a spectacular sensation. Sometimes feeling other’s emotions wasn’t such a burden.