Destiny Unchained

smashwords edition

All Rights Reserved. No part of this
book may be reproduced in any form except for the inclusion of
brief quotations in review without written permission from the
author.

Crouched on the ground Natalia crept silently through
the leaves, her sharp gaze focused on her target. The black wolf
blended into the shadows of the thick trees. She’d tracked it by
scent. The distinct odor of smoky pine invaded her nostrils.
Gods I hate these
creatures.

As if it could read her mind the werewolf turned on
her and snarled, its teeth gleaming in the darkness. The growl
would’ve sent the toughest human screaming through the forest. But
nothing scared her. Especially not some barely out of the cave
Cro-Magnon that sprouted fur and fangs once in a while.

She tightened her muscles ready to spring at the
beast. A husky male voice sounded from behind her.

“Don’t even think about it, vampire.”

She stiffened but kept still, a vision of confidence.
Three men stepped out of the trees, each with an arrow trained on
her.
Well, if it
isn’t Robin Hood and his merry men.

“Put your weapons on the ground,” the werewolf
ordered. “Kick them toward me.”

She made no move to obey. “Bow and arrow? How
archaic.”

“It’s effective. Want a demonstration?”

She gave no reply.

“Didn’t think so. Weapons. All of them. I know you
have at least a dozen on you. You reek of metal and rust.” His lips
curled in amusement. “Who do you think you are? The
Terminator?”

Two of the werewolves chuckled. The blonde on her
right was eerily silent, but his gaze never left her face. A flash
of gold on his coat caught her eye. A badge. Rangers? Werewolves
worked at Yellowstone as rangers?

The werewolf interrupted her thoughts. “Don’t make
the mistake of testing us, vampire. My patience is dwindling.” He
said the word “vampire” with a sneer that would’ve offended her if
she’d cared what anyone thought of her.

She reached down to her calf to grab the first knife,
holstered under her fitted leather pants. The werewolf’s voice
stopped her.

“
Slowly
,” he commanded.

She nodded, showing full cooperation. When she had
the knife in her grasp, the familiar feel of cold metal on her
skin, she flung it at the werewolf to her left, lodging it deep
into his throat. Natalia leapt into the air avoiding the first of
the arrows released. Upon landing she lunged for the nearest archer
reloading his bow. She kicked him in the chest, commandeering his
arrow. With an easy toss it landed in the black wolf she’d been
hunting as it sprung toward her. A savage yelp echoed in the
forest. She smiled inside.

Her feet were swept out from under her and she landed
on her ass but deftly jumped back up. She ducked under the first
flying fist. A werewolf could usually beat her in an arm-wrestling
match but they had nothing on her speed. Grabbing his arm when he
swung at her again, she used his momentum to send him stumbling
across the terrain. With him off balance, it was easy to snap his
neck. His body slumped in a heap on the ground.

She spun to face the last werewolf. An arrow sliced
through the air a fraction of a second before she could react. Pain
erupted in her chest. Burning agony overwhelmed her senses. It took
some effort to maintain her usual calm. She looked down.

Nothing more disturbing than seeing a pointy weapon lodged
in your chest.
Especially knowing it would hurt like a bitch
when she pulled it out.

She frowned at her assailant. “I really liked this
shirt.”

The silent blonde stood perfectly still, mimicking
her earlier vision of confidence. Only it looked better on him.

Finding a werewolf attractive? That was new.

She lifted an arm to pull the arrow out, gritting her
teeth at the expected explosion of pain. Her limbs felt heavy. Her
knees wobbled and her mind thickened with fog.

Poison arrow.

Shit.

She collapsed on the ground, her captor’s heavy boots
her last vision before she faded.

Natalia woke in a hazy stupor. She kept her eyes
closed, waiting for the memories to surface.

Ah,
that’s right. Werewolf ambush.
And she’d walked right into
it. Using her heightened sense, she assessed her environment. It
was still night,
thank the gods
. The last thing she needed was to
shrivel up in excruciating pain before she could free herself from
the werewolf that dared poison her. She inhaled the cool autumn
air. Pine trees, fresh water, local game, werewolf. She wasn’t far
from where she’d been ambushed.

And she was bound.

She opened her eyes. A campfire crackled several feet
away. On the other side the blonde werewolf who’d shot her sat on a
log, using a rock to sharpen something. An arrow head.

“Where are the rest of your merry men?” she
asked.

He kept his gaze fixed on his work. “Just me, for
now.”

“Lucky me.” She experimented with her binds. If the
werewolf had any experience with vampires he would know there
wasn’t much that could hold them. She struggled with all her might
to break through them, but to no avail. And she wasn’t about to
bruise her skin for a lost cause.

So it wasn’t ordinary rope. Most likely it was
enchanted to withstand a vampire’s strength. He’d probably
purchased the damn thing from a witch. Always causing trouble they
were, blessing some, cursing others. Natalia knew all about witch
blessings.

The mystery man had done a bang-up job with the knots
as well. Her arms were twisted behind her, tied at each wrist then
secured around the tree. Her legs were bound together at the ankles
with the end of the rope resting beside the werewolf.

So she was dealing with a professional. A pity. It
would hold things up.

“I don’t suppose you can loosen these?” she asked
drily. First step in any escape plan was to ask to be released. It
almost always didn’t work.

He looked at her, his expression bemused. “Not until
I know you won’t be a problem.”

“Define problem.”

“In a word? You.”

A werewolf with a sense of humor? That was new.

“So, you’re a bounty hunter?” she guessed. “Which
unlucky bastard do you work for?”

He picked up another arrow and began sharpening
it.

“What’s my bounty up to now?” Last she’d heard it was
ten thousand. Of course, that was a few decades ago.

“A hundred grand.”

“Not bad.” She was flattered.

He stopped his task and studied her with narrowed
eyes. “Why do they want you?” She couldn’t tell if he was
impressed, disgusted, or merely curious.

“I kill werewolves,” she told him without
hesitation.

He didn’t flinch, growl, or show any sign of anger.
Strange. They were always angry about that.

“And why do you do that?” he asked.

“Because I like to.” It was true. But she told him so
because she wanted to see his reaction. “And I’ll kill you
too.”

His eyebrows darted up. “Interesting thing for
someone in your position to say.”

Her position. Feeling the ache in her shoulders she
looked down at her binds. “A minor inconvenience.”

A dark, husky chuckle came from across the fire.
Did he just laugh
at me?
She’d been sneered at plenty, but genuine laughter
was a first.

“So you’re a vigilante?” he asked.

Sort of. “Yes.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

So he was curious about her too? Or maybe he was
attempting to distract her from her escape. Silly doggie. Didn’t he
know she was a weapon of perfect focus?

“Before now,” she answered, “beautifully.” Well, that
may not have been the best word. Mostly it was bloody, nasty
business – with no workman’s comp – but surely he knew that.

“What’s your name?”

She smirked then tuned the werewolf out,
concentrating only on her environment. She studied every sound,
identified every scent. From the tree roots jutting from the
ground, to the closest body of water, to low hanging branches, and
even the smallest rocks on the ground. When she broke free of the
binds – and she
would
break free – she would use anything she could
to escape. One never knew when a sharp rock may be the difference
between life and death.

“Will you make me torture you for answers?” the
werewolf asked after she’d been silent for a few minutes.

So
it’s going to be like that.
She sighed. “No. You’ve most
likely taken my wallet. I won’t withhold information you already
have.” She wanted to roll her eyes at the repetition of it all.
Who are you? What
are you doing here? Why did you kill my brother? Blah, blah,
blah.
“I was merely concentrating on my escape plan. My name
is Natalie.” Well, according to her driver’s license.

Her captor rose gracefully from the log. If she had
any doubt he was a werewolf before, she had none now. He was huge,
as all werewolves were, at least six and a half feet tall with
broad shoulders and thick muscles that made the standard ranger
uniform a little snug. But it was his eyes that caught her
attention. One was brown, the other baby blue. The effect was
unnerving. She tried not to stare.

“What are you doing in Yellowstone, vampire?”

She arched a brow. “Feeling territorial?”

“Answer the question.”

“Do you really think it will be that easy?”

“So you
will
make me torture you?”

Her eyes narrowed into her best threatening glare.
“Fair warning. I
really
don’t like being tortured. It puts me in a
foul mood.”

“Let me guess.” His mouth curled up in mocking
amusement. “Bad things happen when you’re in a foul mood?”

“Let me put it this way, the last time someone tried
to torture me, I fed his balls to a pack of wild dogs.” The
werewolf had deserved it. He hadn’t been her intended revenge but
he had sufficed until she could catch up with the man she really
wanted to castrate. Her mate.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” was his only response to
her gruesome threat. “So, Natalie, huh? A very nice American name.”
He stood in front of her, his arms folded over his massive chest.
“But you’re not American, are you?”

“Perceptive,” she said, “for a dog.”

He shook his head slowly, disapproval written all
over his face. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Here you are, tied up
with
my
rope, in
my
territory, and you’re mouthing off?”

“Nerve, I have an abundance of. What I don’t have is
my weapons.”

“Nor will you get them. Did you forget you tried to
kill me?”

“You started it.”

Impatience flared in his eyes. “You were about to
take out that lone wolf!” The amused arrogance was gone when he
took another step towards her. “How did you hear about the wolves’
blood? Who sent you?”

I
guess fun time is over.
“What wolves’ blood? I have no idea
what you’re talking about. And that wasn’t a lone wolf. It was a
dangerous rogue werewolf. Can’t you tell the difference?”

“Answer the question.”

“
You
answer the question.”

Two blonde brows darted up. “Who has who tied
up?”

She looked at her binds. “Irrelevant.”

He laughed.

She stared at him. When his chuckles faded she asked,
“What’s the name of my temporary captor and soon to be dead
man?”

He hesitated only a moment. “Cristian.”

She couldn’t hold back a mocking smile. “Cristian?
Cristian the werewolf? That’s rich.”

He smiled, his teeth white against his lush lips. “My
mother was human, just like yours.” He paused to look in her
wallet. “Natalie from Wisconsin.” He snorted.

She shrugged. Well, as much as she could with her
arms tied behind her back.

“You don’t look like a Natalie.” He stooped down so
they were eye-to-eye. “You changed it, didn’t you? To sound
American.”

Since it was none of his business, she ignored
him.

Using a knuckle he stroked her cheek. To her own
surprise she didn’t snap at him with her fangs. Why did she like
the feel of his skin on hers?

“What’s your real name?” he asked in a buttery
voice.

She had to purse her lips to keep the answer from
spilling out. What a dangerous purr he had.

“You’re too beautiful to be Natalie. Won’t you tell
me your real name?” He smiled warmly and tucked a loose strand of
her hair behind her ear.

Her eyes widened at the strange encounter. Werewolves
wanted her dead. All of them. They wanted to beat her, stab her,
cut out her heart, burn her alive, etcetera, etcetera. She knew
this because they’d told her so. On more than one occasion. In
fact, there was probably a blog somewhere out there on the web
sphere dedicated to the ways she should die. But never,
ever
did they want to caress her. Was this some kind of trick?