Cole’s Redemption (3 page)

C
hange was coming.

Nick could feel it all around him. In his bones, seeping into the rapidly darkening
recesses of his heart.

Nothing remained the same forever, and today marked a vital turning point. A period
of trial for all of them. More than that, he knew death was rushing for him on swift
wings, reaching out with cold talons to tear out his heart and bear him away. The
end wouldn’t come today, or tomorrow. But all too soon.

He wouldn’t submit to the darkness without a fight. But even he couldn’t see whether
he would survive.

A shout interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced in its direction. Beside him, Aric
whirled.

“What was that?”

His question was followed by more shouts, and he quickly stripped, leaving his weapons
with his clothing. His wolf could cover the distance much faster than his human form.
Aric did the same, and they took off.

It seemed to take forever to reach the location of the fight, which became louder
and louder as they sped through the trees, but it was probably just a minute or two.
Even that was too long.

As he and Aric burst over a small rise, he spotted the onslaught of rogue vamps that
had put Zander, Phoenix, and Micah on the losing end of the battle. Nix was lying
on the ground, pressing a hand over his bleeding throat, as his companions swiftly
became overwhelmed by six of the enemy.

Fuck!

Five against six wasn’t terrible odds, normally. But Nix was hurt and these rogues
weren’t typical. Sending up a prayer that the rest of the team had heard the fight
as well, he threw himself into the fray.

•   •   •

Zan grabbed the vampire attacking Nix, buried his fingers in the bastard’s greasy
hair, and swiped the bowie knife across his throat. He made the cut so deep he nearly
decapitated his opponent, then took him down to the ground and finished the job.

There was no time to gloat. He barely had time to take in Nix struggling to get up
and failing, before a body slammed into him, knocking him backward. The back of his
head smacked hard earth, and pain exploded in his skull. Before he could move, the
rogue grabbed his hair and yanked him up, pulling his head back to expose his throat.
Zan struggled, trying to break the vampire’s hold, but the creature’s strength was
unreal.

“Fuck!”

He was pinned like an insect to a corkboard. The rogue grinned, showing off bloodied
fangs, and then lowered his head. Zan sucked in a breath, fully expecting to feel
the razor-sharp teeth ripping out his throat, and suddenly the vampire was jerked
away from him.

Aric, back in human form, threw the rogue to the ground, quickly extending a hand.
Fire shot from his palm, and the bastard writhed, screaming as he burned. Zan grimaced
at the gruesome sight and then turned his attention back to the fight. The rest of
the Pack burst through the trees, and the threat was dispatched.

Except for one. Nick shifted back to human form and shouted something at Kalen just
as the Sorcerer leveled his magical staff at the last vampire, stopping him from executing
the creature. Kalen made a face, clearly unhappy at the order, but raised the staff
and made the rod vanish with a flick of his hand. Instead of killing the vampire,
he uttered a few words Zan couldn’t make out—probably a spell in Latin—and the creature’s
hands were immediately bound behind his back with a silver chain. For good measure,
Kalen added a wide strip of duct tape over the rogue’s mouth.

“Can’t have him getting anyone with those teeth,” he snarled.

Jax gestured to the bodies of the captive vampire’s five companions, and Zan caught
his words. “They’re not burning in the sun like they’re supposed to. What should we
do with them?”

Nick pushed a hand through his hair and stared at them. “Take the bodies back for
study. This one will be our guest in Block R. We’ll give him the opportunity to cooperate.”

“You really think he can be rehabbed?” Zan asked.

Nick shot the rogue a doubtful look, and the vamp sneered back at him. “I won’t hold
my breath, but we’ll see what the tests show.”

Beyond Nick, Zan saw Rowan shouting and waving her arms at them. She was crouched
next to Nix, who was sprawled on the ground, unmoving, as Noah examined him. Her face
betrayed her panic, and Zan pushed to his feet and jogged over to them. Kneeling,
he gazed at the ragged wound on Nix’s throat and cursed under his breath.

Rowan reached over their fallen friend and grabbed his arm to get his attention. “Can
you heal him?”

Zan nodded. “Yes.” Without his full strength, he was walking a fine line, and he knew
it. So did Jax, who skidded to a stop next to them and squatted beside Zan.

“You’re not healed enough for this.”

Noah’s face was etched with fear. “Jax is right,” he said, his voice cracking. “You’re
still recovering and—”

“And he’ll die if I don’t.” Zan met each of their gazes steadily. “There’s never a
choice for me. You all know that, so let me work.”

Noah looked relieved and worried at the same time. Jax’s jaw clenched, and frustrated
anger clouded his eyes. But then he looked down at Nix and, sighing, moved back to
give Zan room. The others did the same, except for Noah, who remained kneeling on
Nix’s opposite side.

Nix’s eyes were closed, long blond hair fanned around him as Zan laid a palm over
the torn flesh. If he had any remaining doubts about putting himself in jeopardy to
save his fallen teammate, they were dispelled at the sight of Noah mouthing the word
“please” repeatedly.

This is my fault. Nix saved me from the vampire because I couldn’t hear him coming.
The knowledge stabbed him in the gut, urging him on. Closing his eyes, he found his
center and set to work.

Nix’s throat was a mess. The tissues were shredded, and he had a tear in his windpipe.
By some miracle, the jugular had escaped being severed, or he’d be dead already, wolf
shifter or not. Still, there were plenty of vessels to repair. Carefully, he drew
forth his healing light, sending gentle waves of it into the torn area.

Starting with the man’s airway, he closed the hole and was satisfied Nix could now
breathe easier. Then slowly, he knitted together the myriad vessels, a tedious task
since each one had to be repaired individually.

He didn’t know how long he worked. One after another, he sealed the leaking veins
and cleaned the area of blood. Another and another, working with complete focus until
he was satisfied all of them were sound. All that remained was the outer skin, and
that was simple by comparison. Underneath his palm, the flesh became whole and healthy
again.

Opening his eyes, he started to say something—but was blinded by agony spearing through
his skull. Crying out, he fell backward, warm blood streaming from his nose. The pain
was so bad, he couldn’t see. Couldn’t talk.

Hands were suddenly on his shoulders, urging him to lie still. Attempting to comfort.
There were soothing voices, too, but he couldn’t make out the words without seeing
their lips. But it hardly mattered what they were saying when he was in hell.

Right where I deserve to be. Nix almost died, and it was my fault.

He knew what he had to do. There was no question now. That thought chased around in
his brain all during the long trip back to the compound.

He had nothing left to offer the Pack.

•   •   •

Selene Westfall sat in a corner booth in the local bar called the Cross-eyed Grizzly,
nursed her beer, and simply watched. Listened.

Humans were fascinating to her, never having been one herself. They might appear to
be the same as her kind on the outside, but they were different in many significant
ways. Humans were physically weaker, their bodies more fragile. Obviously, they didn’t
have the ability to shift. And they were mortal.

Another weakness they possessed besides their physical limitations was their tendency
to talk
way
too fucking much. Humans ran their mouths off about every damned thing in their lives,
and to complete strangers at that. Perhaps a product of a world tainted with the overshare
mentality of social media. Whatever it was, however annoying, their stupidity was
often her gain.

People tended to gravitate to Selene, looking to be friendly. Score a one-night stand.
Whatever. Hell if she knew why, considering her appearance was hardly that of a soft,
demure, willing female. At almost six feet, she was as tall as many of the men in
her Pack, and she was lean but strong. Short, white-blond hair emphasized her angular
cheekbones and large, vivid blue eyes, which could skewer a man at fifty paces. More
than one pup had pissed himself at being the recipient of her displeasure.

Maybe that air of danger, not so common in a female, was the honey that drew people.
In any case, she was a master at letting them sidle up, thinking they were getting
their game on, then gradually turning the tables. She’d let them talk, spilling their
secrets, and she’d take it all in without giving anything in return. Her uncle liked
to joke that she would make a great detective if she ever joined the human world.

As if. Though her powers of observation were coming in handy at the moment as she
eavesdropped without remorse on the conversations around her. One in particular caught
her attention, a couple of local guys speculating about “that top-secret research
place” in the forest and what the hell really went on in there.

“You don’t want to know,” she snorted to herself, taking a sip of her beer.

Research.
So that was the bullshit Nick Westfall was feeding to the locals? How long could
that last?
Until I burn that place to the ground, that’s how long.

The bartender, a pretty woman with long dark hair, was almost at Selene’s table before
she noticed. She berated herself for the unusual slip in her attention as the woman
stopped and gave her a smile.

“Shouldn’t you be working behind the bar?” Selene inquired pleasantly.

“Slow day. Most of the servers won’t be in until the after-work crowd hits. Can I
get you anything else?”

“Still nursing this one, but thanks.”

“No food? It’s lunchtime now. . . .”

“I’ll wait a bit.” Pausing, she studied the bartender, puzzling over what had been
bugging her about the woman since she’d arrived. “I’m Selene. What’s your name?”

“Jacee.” She studied Selene in return—and something flashed in her eyes. Recognition,
perhaps?

Without being too obvious, Selene inhaled a whiff of her scent and straightened in
surprise. Belatedly recognizing the danger, Jacee tried to step back, but Selene’s
hand shot out to grab the woman’s wrist and pull her closer.

“Coyote,” she hissed, and the bartender’s face registered shock.

“How did you . . . ? Nobody’s ever guessed!” she whispered.

Her laugh was low and sultry. “Not even the boys at the so-called research center?”

“Not even them.” She hesitated, fearful, and pushed a lock of hair from her face.
“So you know about them, too?”

“I know what they really are,” she replied, not giving away too much.

“Because you’re the same?”

“Not exactly. I scented you and they didn’t, remember? But close enough.”

“What do you want from me?” The shock was passing, the coyote getting defensive now.
She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing Selene in suspicion.

Best to lay it on the table. “Information on the wolves at the compound.”

Jacee shook her head. “I work hard and mind my own business. I don’t make it a habit
to get into other people’s.”

“You will this time, unless you want every shifter in the vicinity to know there’s
a sweet little coyote bitch here, ripe for the picking.”

Defensiveness became seething anger. Casting a quick look around to be sure they weren’t
drawing attention, Jacee snapped, “This coyote bitch doesn’t answer to skanky wolves.”

Selene gave the bartender a toothy smile as she started to leave the booth. “Oh, but
it’s not me you’ll have to answer to. The other wolves are a different story, though.
They’re regulars, right? I think they’ll be interested to know—”

“What can I possibly tell you? I don’t know anything about those guys!”

Gotcha.
Selene resumed her seat. “You’re aware of more than you think. How many of them are
there? How often do they come in?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how many, exactly. At least ten, I’d say, plus a
few others that aren’t on the team.”

“Team?” That word got her attention. She’d observed them in action from a distance,
how they moved as a well-trained unit, but was still in the dark about their purpose.
“Elaborate.”

Jacee blew out a frustrated breath. “They’re some sort of top-secret military unit.
I’ve seen them called away from here more than once, and when they leave, they do
it with this amazing calm, organized precision, if you know what I mean. Their leader,
or whatever you call him, is usually issuing orders.”

Their leader. Nick Westfall.

“What sort of orders?” When the woman hesitated, she pushed. “Come on. I know you
pick up things with your preternatural hearing that others don’t.”

“Stuff about where they’re heading, what vehicles they’ll take. Sometimes he says
to get the Hueys ready, other times they’re taking a jet or SUVs.”

“And why are they rushing off, Jacee? Tell me.” Her gaze pinned the woman. She knew,
and Selene wasn’t leaving without the answer.

“From what I’ve heard, sometimes people are in trouble, and they’re called away to
help.”

She frowned. “How so? They’re not regular military from one of the four branches,
right? They’re not cops, either, so what sort of problems do they deal with?”

“Paranormal ones,” Jacee whispered, leaning close. Her gaze was intent. “They’re not
just wolves. They have Psy abilities, every last one of them.”

“What?”

“They’re called Alpha Pack, and they all had special abilities, like seeing the dead
or telekinesis or whatever, even before they were turned into shifters. Now they protect
the world from just about every paranormal threat you can imagine—vampires, witches,
demons, Unseelie, Sluagh. You name it, they’ve probably battled it.”