A Pack of Two Page 3

  And now that I had stepped foot back into pack territory, I was stuck. The son of an Alpha was not generally welcome in other pack territories. My mother had already lost one son and didn’t deserve to lose another.

  “Tessa, we both know we are not mates, regardless of what my father may have said. If you wish to mate with another, I will gladly relinquish a challenge for you.”

  She’d never looked at me with anything but disdain and money signs in her eyes. Now there were silver flecks in the icy blue depths. “You are too much of a coward to fight for the privilege of being with me.”

  “Would you fight to be with me?”

  She cackled. “I don’t have to fight for anyone.”

  The bedside phone interrupted my “go to hell” response. Tessa snatched the receiver off its cradle and out of the grasp of my outstretched hand.

  “Ciao,” she answered in feigned sweetness.

  My werewolf ears picked up the voice of an American woman. “May I speak with Lucas, please?”

  “Who is this?” Tessa snarled. The heavy scent of rage filled my room.

  “Um, just a friend calling to make sure he’s all right.”

  Tessa slammed the phone hard enough the bell cried.

  I cursed and tried to grab the phone. My broken ribs voiced their disagreement and I fell back into the bed, gasping for breath.

  “Who was that?” Tessa demanded.

  “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Her name is Breanna.”

  All the color drained from her face. “You are a bastard. I wish you had died on that mountain road.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Tessa threw the water pitcher across the room and slammed the door on the way out. My wolf rumbled. He’d always hated her.

  With a lot of effort and discomfort, I managed to reach the phone.

  My nurse, Anira, quietly entered the room and knelt to clean up the spilled water pitcher. “I’ll bring more water for you, Mr. Benelli. How are you feeling?”

  “Better since she left.”

  Anira laughed softly as she placed another pillow behind my head. “Are your stitches pulling? They may be ready to come out.” With my werewolf metabolism, even deep gashes like the one on my leg would heal within hours if properly attended.

  “Whoever tied the tourniquet around your leg saved your life. When the femur broke, it ripped your femoral artery. With all the internal injuries you sustained and the blood loss from the artery, you would have bled to death before your body could heal itself.”

  “Her name was Breanna.”

  Anira looked over her shoulder at me. “The one in the helicopter?”

  “Yes. I hoped she would come in.”

  Anira snorted. “Of course she wouldn’t come in. She’s a witch.”

  “So?”

  “The Alpha would have killed her on sight. You know how everyone feels about witches.”

  I folded the cover back so she could get to the sutures. “Not all witches are evil. The dark witches are, but the white witches are very peaceful.”

  “She didn’t look or feel peaceful to me. We were all rather shocked someone like her was helping you.”

  I barely felt anything as she removed the sutures. I asked if there was any way to track the number that had just called my room and Anira shook her head. “Sorry, the switchboard has no computer backup. However, you are in a cellphone-safe zone if you would like to use your own phone.”

  After she checked my vitals, Anira fished my phone out of my jacket pocket. I stared at the scratched screen, ridiculously hoping Brenna would call. Even if she had managed to find this number, why would she call after what Tessa had done?

  The phone came alive in my hand. Without thinking, I answered it. “Breanna?”

  The familiar laugh of my best friend, Tristyn Ziccardi, came through loud and clear. “Sorry, buddy, it’s just me. I heard about a motorcycle wreck on the mountain road. You okay?”

  I spent the next hour trying desperately to remember the details. What I remembered most was Breanna. Incredible amber eyes, beautiful auburn hair, the gentleness of her fingers along my face. She was an angel.

  “How’s your mom?” Tristyn asked.

  “She’s doing all right. Tired, but all right.”

  “And your dad?”

  “Humph, don’t ask.”

  “How much did he yell?”

  “Only a little. I’ll hear it tomorrow when I leave the hospital. He expects me to stay with them for a few days.”

  “That’s a good idea, Luc. If you don’t really remember what happened, there could be a lot more going on than you know.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll call you when I get back home.”

  “All right. I’ll do some checking and see what I can find about this witch you met.”

  Sleeping with broken ribs and a broken leg was almost impossible. Anira tried her magic but my werewolf blood would have none of it. My body was healing itself and with that healing came pain.

  Somehow I had to find Breanna. My wolf always bristled when anyone, werewolf or not, came near, but he craved her. We both did. I wanted to smell that intoxicating blend of strawberries and honey so uniquely Breanna.

  She had been gentle and my wolf listened to her. Hell, he didn’t listen to me most of the time. For her, my wolf had settled.

  I slid off the side of the bed and limped toward the adjoining bathroom. My ribs and leg were mending. My head still thumped, but now it felt like it was a small car rather than a train that hit me.

  A soft rap at the door preceded a tentative, “Lucas?”

  Vinnie Petrazzini’s blond head appeared around the corner. The subordinate wolf had stayed at my door all night. “A vamp came by last night asking about you.” Vinnie stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his khaki pants.

  “A vampire?”

  Vinnie stared at the floor. “Dark hair, French accent, wearing camouflage.”

  That didn’t sound like any vampires I knew. “Did he give his name or leave a number?”

  Vinnie shook his head and chewed his bottom lip. My wolf stirred at the scent of apprehension.

  “He asked if you were all right, if your injuries had been attended, and if you remembered what happened.”

  I waited for him to continue but Vinnie was fascinated with the linoleum. “And what did you say to him?”

  “Um, I told him you were doing well, your injuries were healing and you didn’t really remember what happened.” Vinnie looked around, shifting his weight foot to foot. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

  My wolf hated his meekness. “It’s all right,” I mumbled, limping toward the bathroom.

  Vinnie slipped out the door without another word. He was the lowest ranking wolf in the pack and the only one my wolf didn’t want to kill just for breathing. A part of me wanted to be nice to Vinnie but nobody treated a subordinate wolf with respect and if I did, it would only confuse him.

  Chapter 3

  Breanna

  “I cannot believe you asked me to do that,” Lieutenant Christopher LeCavalier fumed as he paced outside my cell. His eyes sparkled as he spun to face me. The fluorescent lights gave his coal black hair an eerie glow.

  “I needed to know he was all right.” The telephone call I had placed to the hospital before reporting to the brig at Camp Ederle had not gone well. A woman answered and promptly slammed the receiver in my ear. Bitch.

  “You could have called the front desk.” The vampire’s thick French-Canadian accent made his irritated words sound angrier than he was.

  “Yeah, I’m sure it was a terrible experience since you love elf girls in nurses’ uniforms.”

  Chris sneered at me. “Will I need to go check on him later tonight to be sure he is tucked in properly?”

  “Check on whom?” Simon asked, stepping onto the long narrow hall and glancing in my direction.

  “Chris went to the hospital to check on Lucas.”

&nbs
p; Two blond eyebrows shot up. “Lucas?” he asked, drawing out the name.

  “Yeah, you know, the wolf the Malandanti were after.” I flopped onto the pitiful cot. A spider skittered from his hiding place beneath the mattress.

  Simon glared at me.

  “What? I tried to call but didn’t get much info so Chris stopped by.”

  “That wolf is dangerous. That pack is dangerous. Stay away from him and that’s an order, Sergeant.” Simon pointed a finger at Chris. “And you should have known better than to fall for this.”

  Chris lowered his eyes and I stormed to the front of the cell. “I just wanted to know Lucas was all right. Is that a bad thing?”

  Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Had you asked, I would have given you a full report regarding the injured werewolf.”

  Oops. “You checked on him?”

  Simon looked insulted. “I phoned the hospital. If you would bother to check, you would see I had indeed left two messages for you.”

  I was dog shit on a boot heel. “Is he okay?”

  Simon walked to the front of the cell. “The doctors said your tourniquet saved his life. He would have bled to death had you not intervened.”

  There was a “but” sure to follow.

  “But you disobeyed my orders to not engage. You went after the Malandanti without permission or backup.”

  “They were going to kill him, Sime. I had to engage.”

  He shook his head. “You chose to engage.”

  I stomped my foot. “Yeah, to save Lucas. They were going to sacrifice him for some stupid ritual.”

  “But you chose to ignore my order and handle things yourself, did you not?”

  My breath was the only sound in the room. “Yes, sir.”

  Simon looked over his shoulder. “Lieutenant LeCavalier, you may go.”

  Chris tossed a sympathetic shrug my way before slipping down the hall. Simon reached for the keys and unlocked the brig door. I moved to the far corner and sat quietly on the cot. Simon would never hurt me, but his lectures were enough to make me throw myself into traffic.

  “Breanna, my dear, you are one of the finest reconnaissance soldiers I have ever known, but your petulance and impatience worry me greatly.”

  There was a bridge over the main road coming into base. Lots of traffic. If I was lucky, a tractor trailer would hit me first.

  “I contacted the hospital tonight to not only verify the condition of the injured wolf but to ascertain if any ill will was directed toward you since you had so brazenly drawn attention to yourself at the hospital.”

  I stared at the cracks in the floor. “I couldn’t leave him, Sime. He was upset and his wolf kept trying to force a change.”

  Simon snorted. “Ah, yes, and there is that. Theodore was babbling about you talking to the injured wolf and stopping an imminent change. Would you care to share your secret?”

  “My secret?”

  “You were able to have a conversation with the wolf side of a werewolf?”

  “Oh, yeah, guess I did talk to his wolf but if I hadn’t, Lucas would have died.”

  “And?”

  I jumped from the cot. “And it would have been my fault.”

  “No, it would not have been your fault. It would have been his fault for being on the mountain road alone at that time of night. By the way, there is absolutely no evidence to support your claim the Malandanti were there.”

  “You think I’m lying?”

  “I do not. However, most supernaturals are not quite so willing to accept the word of a witch.”

  He didn’t mean it to hurt but it did. I might have been able to change shapes and fly around like an owl, but bottom line, I was a witch and nobody liked witches.

  “You’re on duty tonight,” Simon said as he rose fluidly from the cot.

  “I’m not. I’m in the brig per your orders.”

  “You and Lieutenant Miller have the river. Lieutenant LeCavalier and Sergeant Ordison will take the road.” Simon was inches from my face before I could blink. “Please follow orders tonight, Master Sergeant Welker. No engagement without calling first.” Cool fingers startled away my foot-stomping response. “Breanna, my dear, I am thinking of your safety.” He released my arm and backed away. “We will discuss the injured werewolf when you return.”

  Ninety minutes later I landed on the bank of the Brenta River. It was a dark night with only a sliver of moon occasionally peeking between the clouds. My owl form easily slipped between the overhanging branches as I glided toward my werewolf partner for the night.

  The river was loud, the water lapping over the edges of the banks. The forest knew we were there and kept her animals hidden in the darkness. Lieutenant Aaron Miller was sitting cross-legged on a rock.

  “Hey, Bre,” he called as I landed. Apparently he didn’t mind talking to a bird. In a flash I changed, my form flowing from owl to human. It was times like this I was thankful my touch of magic always included my human form re-emerging fully clothed. The werewolves didn’t have that luxury.

  “What’s up, Aaron? What’d you do to tick off the old man?”

  Aaron grinned, giving him a boyish charm. “I asked for duty when I heard you were on deck.”

  “Yeah, right.” Nobody requested duty with me.

  Aaron moved closer, slowly running a finger up my arm. “Ah, now, Bre, you know I think you’re the sexiest witch in our unit.”

  I met his eyes. “I’m the only witch in your unit.”

  Aaron was one of the sixteen werewolves in my recon unit and was by far the sultriest of the lot. There were also five vampires and one very important civilian elf in our midst.

  A twig snapped in the distance and we both dropped to the ground. Movement along the far river bank attracted our attention. “I’ll fly around behind,” I whispered. “You take the point.”

  Aaron glowered. He was charming in a naughty boy kind of way. “There might be more than one. We shouldn’t split up.”

  “Move it, Miller. That’s an order.”

  He gave me a playful snarl before slipping into the darkness.

  I shifted, my owl form giving me greater eyesight and much more maneuverability among the trees. As I flew deeper into the darkness, the sounds of the night called to me. Rabbits shrieked in alarm, mice dove into the leaves, and footsteps moved along the forest floor.

  You’re lucky I ate dinner, Flopsy.

  Staying high in the trees and avoiding the revealing snippets of moonlight, I circled to hone in on the faint sucking noises of two pairs of shoes in the mud.

  My orders were not to engage.

  The heavy limbs of a giant spruce gave good cover. The footsteps along the bank stopped, but another set of shoes was approaching from Aaron’s side. It wasn’t Aaron, the footsteps much too loud for a recon soldier, but they were soft and light, perhaps a woman?

  Across the river Aaron stalked through the underbrush less than fifty yards behind a shadowy figure. I flew to another spruce and peered between the branches. The footsteps on my side of the river had not resumed. Were they planning an ambush?

  The lone figure Aaron was trailing stopped at the riverbank. She looked around, nervously pulling a scarf tightly around her head. If she’d turn just a little more, she’d reveal her face.

  Maybe I should squawk or something to make her look in this direction.

  Two cloaked figures, most certainly Malandanti judging by their outdated robes, appeared directly across the water from her.

  Squawk aborted. Shut up and watch.

  I waited, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of the woman’s face, but she kept her head down while stepping gingerly onto the rocks. The gurgling water drowned out any words exchanged between the Malandanti and the woman as she passed a manila envelope to one of the cloaked figures.

  Gotta have that envelope. That is not engaging. That is acquiring evidence.

  Soundlessly diving and carefully avoiding the dapples of moonlight, I ripped the envelope from the bony fin
gers and flapped with all my might to push my owl body as far from the Malandanti as possible.

  I had just reached the other side of the riverbank when the first wave of Malandanti magic swept over me. The magic wasn’t comfortable, but no damage done.

  “Bre!” Aaron yelling for help made me drop the envelope and rush toward him.

  Trapped in a binding spell, struggling to keep his head above the water, Aaron flailed like a stickman in a windstorm.

  The woman disappeared, but the Malandanti were standing firm, their spell dragging Aaron closer to a watery grave. I landed on a rock and shifted to human. The Malandanti dashed into the forest. The binding spell broke, leaving Aaron to flounder in the roaring current. I tried to grab his outstretched hand but the frothy water snatched him.

  “Hang on, Aaron, I’m coming!” Geez, I hated cold water. I tossed my heavy jacket to the side and dove into the dark depths, promptly slamming headfirst into a boulder. The current was a monster, sucking me farther under and pinballing me along the jagged rocks.

  I hated those damn cloaked asshole witch bitch freaks.

  I bounced to the surface, gasping for air. Only a few feet away, Aaron surfaced in a swirling rapid of white water and logs. I ducked under the water and swam to him.

  “Gotcha.” I had a good grip on his wet fatigues. “Come on and we’ll get out of this water.”

  “I can’t swim,” he rasped as he clung to a floating chunk of oak.

  Werewolves and water. Damn.

  “Can’t stay here, Miller,” I shouted. “Trust me, I’ll get you out.”

  Bobbing against the log, the cold water leaching my strength, I managed to pull Aaron’s back against my chest in the survival swimmer position.

  “Don’t fight or you’ll drown us both.”

  He was heavy as a tank and the going was slow, but we made it to the shore. We climbed through the mud and collapsed side by side on the shore. It was so damn cold a penguin would have been miserable and now I was soaked to the bone. My muscles were on strike. Beside me, Aaron’s breathing calmed. Every werewolf I’d ever met was deathly afraid of water, something about the density of their bodies making it impossible for them to swim.

  Warm fingers closed around mine as Aaron rose to an elbow. “Bre, you okay?”