Plague Wolf: Werewolf Romance (Wolf Wars Book 3) Page 7

  "Shit," said Allyson.

  Allyson clambered up the stairs.

  When she rounded the corner, Samantha was waiting with her gun held at aim.

  Samantha pulled the trigger, sending a bullet across Allyson's arm as Allyson leaned in and grabbed Samantha's arm. Allyson lifted her leg and kicked Samantha in the ribs before whirling her around in front and pulling Samantha's arm up behind her back. The gun fell to the ground and Allyson kicked it away.

  "Where is the virus?" Allyson demanded.

  Samantha grunted and slammed her head up and back, catching Allyson in the jaw. Allyson's grip on Samantha's arm tightened and she jerked it up even higher.

  "I don't have it," Samantha groaned between strained breaths.

  Allyson shook her head and shoved Samantha to the concrete in front of her. "Then you're useless," she said as she started dragging Samantha back off the platform.

  "What are you going to do now? Kill me?"

  "Not unless you make me," Allyson said.

  Samantha twisted up and around, getting behind Allyson and shoving her head into the metal fence. Allyson raised her hand to her head, pulling away fingers coated by trickles of blood.

  Samantha ran over toward the tank, yelling something.

  Grant had Garrett in a lock and was leading him closer to the edge of the tank. Samantha jumped in place, trying to get Grant's attention by waving both arms in the air.

  Grant nodded to Samantha and tossed Garrett away from him onto the bridge. Then he ran back down the length of the bridge to the control panel and started flipping levers. The engines inside the tanks adjusted and whined against their new orders. The smell of bleach burned Allyson's sinuses. Garrett crawled back to his feet and pulled himself along the metal railings back to Grant. He grabbed the back of Grant's head and slammed it against the control panel. The two men started fighting again.

  Allyson sprinted over toward the stairs and grabbed Samantha before Samantha could run up the steps to help Grant. She grabbed Samantha by the hair and pulled her back, tossing her backwards to the ground. Samantha thudded against the concrete, and didn’t manage to stumble back to her feet until Allyson had bolted toward the stairs to help Garrett. Samantha flung herself forward and grabbed Allyson by the shoulder and jerked her back into her. She grabbed the gun from Allyson's waistband and kicked Allyson away from her.

  "Grant!" Samantha yelled as she took aim at the men.

  Garrett lunged over Grant, pinning him down to the bridge as he landed two new punches. Allyson ran back over to Samantha and reached for the gun as Samantha pulled the trigger.

  "No! Allyson yelled, as she grabbed the gun and turned it on Samantha.

  "Go ahead," Samantha said and smirked. "I'll die happy kno…"

  Allyson pulled the trigger before Samantha could finish her sentence.

  Allyson sprinted up the stairs, gun aimed ahead of her. Grant crawled over Garrett and stopped when he saw Allyson clear the top of the platform. Grant shook his head and held his arms up in front of him, as if to signal his surrender. Allyson glared at him.

  "Where's the virus?"

  Grant stared at Allyson through trickles of blood and a broken nose. He shook his head and reached into a pocket inside his jacket to pull out a vial and held it up for Allyson to see.

  "Put it down," demanded Allyson. "Carefully. Right there on the floor in front of you."

  Grant obeyed, getting down onto one knee and placing the vial on the metal bridge. Allyson turned to help Garrett to his feet.

  "Allyson," Garrett said.

  Allyson turned back in time to see Grant pull a gun from the other side of his jacket and take aim.

  Before he could pull the trigger, his body jerked and his eyes widened. Blood sprayed from his chest and less than a second later, he crumbled to ash and fell to the bridge. The gun dropped to the bridge, knocking the vial over and sending the virus into the water below. Allyson watched it fall with a sinking feeling in her heart. What if the vial broke open? What if there wasn’t enough bleach in the water to kill it all? What if that bleach smell had come from off to the side, and there was no bleach in that water below at all?

  There was no time to worry about it now.

  Allyson glanced around and sighed with relief to see August putting his gun away. August ran up to the bridge and helped pull Garrett to safety.

  "It's bad," Allyson sobbed. "He's losing too much blood."

  August's eyes turned up toward the fading sky. Streaks of pink and yellow signaled the coming moon.

  "Do it," Garrett stuttered as he fell into shock. His shivers made it nearly impossible for Allyson to understand his words.

  "There's no need," Allyson said. "I can get you to the truck and sew you up. And you'll be fine. You're just scared, that's all. You're scared so you're talking crazy."

  "I'm scared," whispered Garrett. "Oh yes, I'm scared shitless. But this might be the only way."

  "We don't even know if it'll work," Allyson said.

  Garrett struggled to reach into his front pocket and pulled out a small ring box. Allyson's tears fell faster and she shook her head.

  "Allyson," Garrett said. "Allyson, I know you think you're a curse. I know you think you're a burden. But the truth is, because of you, my moon shines brighter. I bought this ring with the intention of committing the rest of my life to you. Please, give me a chance to do that."

  Allyson brushed Garrett's sweaty hair away from his face and leaned in to kiss him.

  "I'm going to give you that chance," she said. "But I'm not going to do it by turning you. Not without trying to save you first."

  Garrett bobbed his head and forced a smile.

  His eyes rolled back into his head and his grip loosened around the ring.

  "Get him into the truck," August said. "Let's go."

  Chapter Twelve

  Days later, Garrett woke up in his bed. The bright sun filled the room, bouncing off the bright yellow walls. He glanced around the room and tried to reorient himself. Running water downstairs hinted at where he could find Allyson.

  Garrett tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Every joint hurt. Sharp pains travelled up and down his back, and he struggled to get to his feet. The ring box sat on his nightstand, open and empty. Slowly, Garrett walked down the hallway and down the stairs. Allyson was darting back and forth across the kitchen. Coffee brewed happily in the pot while she pulled a tray of cinnamon buns out of the oven.

  Allyson screamed, then smiled when she realized that Garrett was standing there.

  "You scared the shit out of me," she said. The chair scraped across the tiled floor as Allyson pulled it out from the table so Garrett could sit.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

  "How do you feel?"

  "I hurt. So at least I know I'm not dead."

  Allyson set a mug of coffee down in front of him and sat down at the next seat. She took in a deep breath and stared at him. Garrett smiled as the ring dazzled against her finger.

  "You did it?" he asked. "Did you turn me?"

  "August helped me get you up into the truck and we got away from there before anyone could see us. I managed to sew up the gun shot and stop the bleeding." She paused before continuing. "But no, I didn't turn you."

  Garrett smiled and squeezed her hand.

  "You are amazing," he whispered. "I mean, I know this is one of those cheesy lines that you hear in those mushy romance movies, but really. You amaze me."

  Allyson smiled and cocked her head to the side in a way that made Garrett worry.

  "So, what's wrong? If you didn't have to turn me, then what's wrong?"

  "Nothing really. I just think we should talk about it."

  "Oh God. Allyson. No one says ‘we should talk’ as a lead in for something good."

  "Garrett, I just mean that. It's just that I don't think we should make a decision like that, about turning you, when you're dying and scared. And… we need to talk about wha
t might happen, anyway – with the virus…"

  Garrett took in a deep breath and leaned back in his seat.

  He nodded his head and squeezed her hand again.

  "Okay," he said. "Okay, that's fair. Let's talk."

  THE END

  About the Author

  Kyrii Rayne has always been fascinated by the paranormal – by the possibilities hidden in the world around us. She enjoys writing stories that explore those possibilities – and the challenges they bring to the lives of her characters, especially when it comes to finding love.

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  Here is your preview of

  Hunting Party

  Bear Lodge Shifters– Book 1

  Kyrii Rayne

  Chapter One

  Sometimes life throws you a curveball, Anna Moretti thought as she gazed out of the helicopter window at Jackson Hole shrinking below them. Off into the mountains they went, swept away to a private resort owned by the father of her new boyfriend, Jake Matson. She felt her stomach drop as they rose high enough to make her nervous, and instead turned back to Jake, who sat there smiling with his arm around her.

  Jake was huge, six and a half feet of muscle, with a sweet clean-shaven face that looked younger than his massive body, soft brown eyes and slightly floppy coffee-colored hair. A gray weathered t-shirt stretched across his chest under a black motorcycle jacket, and black jeans molded to his powerful thighs. She couldn't look at him and not feel warmth running through her. Especially after the last few days.

  “You okay, baby?” he asked gently, reaching out to slip his hand through her shoulder-length honey-colored hair.

  She was tiny compared to him, and soft-bodied, with luxurious curves and bright green eyes. She wore jeans as well, with a big fluffy teal sweater, and nestled against his shoulder as he spoke.

  “I'm good,” she purred. And she was.

  Last night especially had made sure of that.

  Jake had started out shy with her, just a few days ago, coming by her desk at the seminar they shared in grad school, and introducing himself. Offering an afternoon coffee, someone to talk environmental law with, then later someone to walk around campus with until an autumn rain drove them indoors again.

  Hand-holding, walks and long conversations had evolved over a few days, and he had shocked her with an invitation to Wyoming for the weekend. Always adventurous, and having had no chance to hike anywhere for a few years, Anna had jumped at the opportunity. And then Jake had made another proposition, and she had smiled slowly... and jumped at that chance as well.

  They had spent last night exploring each other, mapping each other’s' bodies with fingers and mouths, learning the caresses that brought each other to trembling heights, and then resting and trying again.

  She was pleasantly exhausted as she sat through the flight, and dozed a little against his side, feeling the warmth pouring off him even through his jacket. It was amazing how she could know him for only a few days, and already feel so safe around him.

  “My Father's holding an event this weekend, some kind of hunt. Probably moose, something like that. I told him I had someone special to bring along, and he said it was fine.”

  He leaned forward to nuzzle her hair. Strange, how having sex with her had left him even more affectionate than before. In her experience it was usually the opposite: a guy slept with you, and then stopped trying because he had gotten what he wanted.

  Not Jake. Last night in the middle of his first climax he had looked at her suddenly, amazement and joy spreading across his face, as if an angel had whispered in his ear. And since then, his sexy, friendly affection had become something infinitely more tender and intense.

  It was almost frightening... but he never did a thing to try to hurt or control her. He simply seemed so hopelessly smitten that his enormous size and sheer masculinity somehow made it even more adorable.

  “That's really nice of him. Will it be safe to go hiking with the hunt going on?”

  “They hunt to the north and west. There are some good hiking trails to the southeast that we can use. It's not a big deal.”

  He smiled down at her, and leaned down to give her a gentle kiss.

  “Okay. That sounds good. I haven't been able to do any hiking at all since I started grad school. I really miss it.”

  “Did you bring good boots? It could snow.” He rubbed her back, and she nodded.

  “Good waterproof hikers, yeah. I don't have a compass right now - do you have one?”

  “Yeah, there's one set in my multi-tool. I've barely ever used it for anything though. I've turned into a city boy.” He smirked gently. “This should be pretty interesting.”

  “Okay, well, we'll figure it out.”

  She managed another glance out the window, and watched the landscape slide past far below: tree-clad mountains, stone outcroppings, drifts of dead leaves. Sometimes a flock of birds flew by underneath.

  Once or twice she saw other animals: deer, elk, a female moose with her yearling. The land looked so pristine, so untouched, save for a few cell phone towers and the odd pair of power lines.

  Back as a kid she had hiked the Sierra Nevadas with her uncle every summer, traveling overland for miles and miles. She still kept her mileage up every day, surprising Jake with how easily she had taken the hills and stairs of the UC Berkeley campus. She was built for cuddling, as he had commented, and the idea of her powering up a Wyoming mountain path had intrigued him.

  She was a contradiction by nature: avid hiker but not athletic-looking, emotionally tough but soft-eyed and snuggly, dedicated to environmental sciences but neither a strict tree-hugger nor any other kind of extremist.

  She was fiercely independent, and a student of the School of What Works; she called herself a moderate but whether she was or not depended on the subject. And Jake was much the same.

  Of course, in his case he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth that he didn't really need; they were both scholarship students, both at the top of their classes, but he had come from a private school and she was the product of one of the less successful public school systems in California.

  His plan was to start a series of green businesses, such as renewable hemp and bamboo farms to replace wood in the local paper making industry. Meanwhile she had planned to become a lobbyist in local government.

  Somehow, she suspected that his ventures would be more successful, with his father's money behind them. But she didn't mind; it wasn't a competition. As long as the work got done, she was happy enough.

  Though there really was something to be said about having a lover who could sweep you off to a private hunting lodge for the weekend with one phone call.

  “So what kind of guy is your Father?” she asked casually — and was surprised to feel him tense a little against her side.

  “He's... eccentric. He's mostly just wrapped up in his work and environmental causes. You know, one of these Type A people who are always pulling all-nighters on this or that project but don't spend anywhere near as much time on people. We aren't super close.”

  He hesitated, and she watched his face, and the conflict in it, and wondered.

  “Am I going to be welcome there? Because I don't want to cause problems between you and your Father.”

  She
felt a small stab of concern, but he just smiled.

  “No, he already said it was fine, he isn't the sort of guy to go back on his word. Don't worry about it.” He took her hand and squeezed it, rubbing his thumb over the back. “Seriously, we'll have a great time.”

  “What's the lodge like?”

  She craned her head around to catch sight of any sign of civilization, but except for a single, winding road and an old fire tower in the distance, she saw nothing. She smiled, sighing with an odd satisfaction. It wasn't that she disliked the sight of other people, but there was something about unspoiled land that made her deeply happy.

  “It's huge. Looks like one of those log fortresses from the Colonial days but on a bigger scale. Geothermal heating, wind and solar electric, its own spring, seriously — the works. The designer, Helga Thorsdottr, is a good friend of my father's. She was like an extra grandma growing up. I hope she's feeling well enough to join us this weekend, I'd love for you to meet her.”

  “It sounds awesome.” She felt a touch of mischief replace the apprehension. “Do they have private hot tubs?”

  His eyebrows went up, and he gave her a lazy grin.

  “Yup.”

  “Those will definitely come in handy.”

  She slid her hand up and down his chest and he got a gleam in his eye.

  “Hey now,” he whispered in her ear. “You keep that up and I'm joining the Mile High Club and embarrassing our pilot.”

  She blushed, and stopped petting, but only reluctantly.

  He chuckled. Half an hour later, she saw the lodge, its massive shape crowning one of the mountains. It had its own helicopter pad, and the pilot headed for it, fighting the mountain winds now and again and making her stomach jump. But the reedy man in the bulbous helmet knew what he was doing, and after a shaky descent, set them down in the middle of the helipad.

  “That's it, kids,” he rasped. “Wait for the rotors to come to a stop before you get out, this isn't Hollywood.”