Fever (9 page)

When she
writhed in his grasp, fighting his restrictive hold, he spun her around so fast that her head tapped the wall.

“Kiss me,” she breathed.

His lips pressed against hers with bruising force. It was a kiss of possession that made Anna tremble with need. Her hands fumbled for the buttons on his jeans, but they held firm. She yanked on the denim in frustration. Something was in the way. Fingers wrapping around a pistol, she yanked it from his waistband and tossed it away from them.

“Get
–” She spoke into the kiss. “Get these undone.”

“You fi
rst,” he demanded, roughly massaging her. She jackknifed in response, letting out a breath. It took precious seconds to do as he ordered.

Logan stooped and swept her into his arms, carrying her to a
n equipment table. He dropped her legs and gave her a shove that sent her sprawling over it. Her face scraped against the wood, and a headlamp pressed into her stomach.

“
I always keep my promises,” he rasped, yanking down the waistband of her pants. Cool air breezed over her thighs and then he pressed against her, delicious heat warming her through his jeans. One hand slithered between her shirt and her back to the nape of her neck, pressing her down. She bucked against him with untamed passion, willing him to get on with it.

She felt his hand slip between them, frantically  unbuttoning his jeans. A zipper slid down and then he was brushing
hard against her, skin against skin. A guttural groan rose from his throat at the contact. The hand on her neck tightened when she squirmed, while his other hand caressed the swell of her hip.

Anna let out
an impatient yell, snapping over her shoulder, “Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to–”

A
sudden thrust of his hips made her cry out in ecstasy. He slammed into her, sending flashlights rolling off the table. They clattered across the floor, the sound mingling with her gasps.

Logan drew
back and thrust into her again, releasing a sharp breath. His hand slipped from her neck to her shoulder, holding her in place. She clawed at the table, nails scraping over wood as he buried himself inside her again, and again, dragging over a spot that made her desperate for more. It burned, so hot, so deep, but it burned so
good
.

“
Harder,” she demanded through gritted teeth. “Don’t hold back. I want
you
.” She clenched around him to drive him over the edge of reason, wanting him to take her with the violent sense of betrayal driving him.

There was a low rumble
in his throat as his control broke. The table began scraping across the floor with every pounding thrust. She reared up against his hold, her head thrown back in wild abandon. The table’s edge was unyielding as it ground against her thighs every time he burrowed into her.

“Oh, God,” Log
an grunted above her. “So tight.”

There was a
clank
when a compressed air tank rolled over, but they didn’t stop, didn’t slow, too enflamed with the need to rekindle the passion they once shared. Anna bit her lip to keep from screaming as her inner fire burned hotter, stoked with every snap of his hips.

She gripp
ed the edge of the table, ramming herself back, forcing Logan to drive even deeper into her. His hands clutched her hips, pulling her closer, nails scraping hard enough to draw blood. She cried out in pained pleasure. As he rode her at a feral pace, his hardness sent fierce waves rippling through her folds.

“Anna,”
he grunted, “Oh, God, Anna.” The way he chanted her name, so throaty and
hot
made her purr with satisfaction. He was hers, lost in every plunge and the way she flexed around him, utterly ravenous for her.

Her body tightened as
the urge built, a sinuous liquid heat. She quivered when it pooled between her legs, jostling with every merciless piston of his hips, ready to overflow. Her breath came faster in anticipation and she writhed against him. The pressure increased until it was too much. She mewled, wordlessly begging him to do something.

Logan leaned
over her in response, blanketing her back. She felt his breaths in her ear, felt his racing heartbeat against her shoulders. Shoving roughly into her, he brought his lips to her shoulder and sank his teeth into her skin. The spark of pain, of animalistic possession, quaked down her spine and sent her over the edge.

T
he tendons in her neck strained when she threw back her head, yelling as she came. Her body convulsed with fire and lust and pleasure, intense spasms wracking her core. Logan’s cry echoed her own as her inner muscles fluttered in ecstasy. He swelled, thickening inside her. The force of his final thrust heightened her bliss until she thrashed beneath him, forced to ride out the waves. Her vision went white as he rocked against her, shuddering with fulfillment.

Breathless and shaking, her first
rational thought was that she’d come home. To him.

Vincent returned to
consciousness slowly. Floating in darkness, he felt the ache of throbbing pain. It grew stronger as his other senses sharpened. He was laying on something soft, but it was too firm to be a bed. Springs pressed uncomfortably into his back. A cot, then.

The waistband of pants two sizes too big grazed his lower abdomen with every breath. Each inhale
filled his nose and mouth with the scent of the pack. Doc. Nurse Biel. Mitch. Jay. There were other scents too, but none of them compared to the overpowering scent of the Alpha. The wolf cowered at the realization she was near. Not in the same room, that much was clear, but she wasn’t far.

The song of a
jewelry box carried from another room. He heard a patter of footsteps dancing to the melody. They were joined by a child’s laughter, so cold and callous that it made him shiver.

There was no denying it. He was in the heart of the den.

Voices murmured around him. He struggled to understand their words. Though he was too tired to care, his instincts refused to allow him to sleep. It was too dangerous.

“I told you he’d be reluctant.
I told you to use the drug I gave you,” Doc hissed. “I hung it from a chain around your neck so you would always have it with you!” Something was knocked to the floor amidst the sound of retreating footsteps. Jay’s footsteps.

“We used it
–”

“After you indulged
a schoolboy urge to beat him into submission. Do you have any idea how serious this is? He doesn’t need the last dose of antidote, you idiot! Understanding
why
might save even your pathetic life one day, but I can only test him if he fully recovers. Does beating him support his recovery? Does it?”

Jay must have shaken his head.

“No,” Doc softly continued. “It doesn’t.”

Something metal slid over a tray.

“I have high hopes for you, Jay. I would hate to mistake liquid silver for antibiotics one day. Do we understand one another?”

There was a brief
hiss
, and a strangled yelp. The odor of burning flesh drifted toward Vincent.

“Yes, sir.” Jay voiced trembled
, his breaths heavy. “It won’t happen again.”

“Get out.”

Footsteps strode across the room. As they faded down the hall, Vincent managed to open his eyes. He squinted up at a beige ceiling. The fluorescent lights weren’t as blinding as those in the hospital, and for that, he was grateful.

His relief was short-lived.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” A penlight shone into his eyes. Vincent rolled his head away, but the action was sluggish. He only caught a glimpse of a modest office before Doc guided his head back to the light. Whatever those bastards had slipped him induced photophobia. He squinted with pain. Tears filled his eyes to ward off the light.

“Interesting.” The excitement in Doc’
s expression was nauseating. The smile of a Cheshire Cat dominated his features. His hand slipped from Vincent’s jaw. He seemed to disappear into thin air, only to reappear a moment later with a pen and clipboard.

Vincent blinked, suddenly aware that he wasn’t playing with a full deck.

There was a rust-colored stain covering one edge of Doc’s lab coat. Vincent peered up at the splotch, wondering if this was a hidden Rorschach test. He struggled to see beyond the obvious. Through the fog clouding his mind, it only appeared to be blood. Just blood.

Doc
broke his focus. “The drugs shouldn’t have kept you under for so long, but that’s only to be expected after your… physical altercation. If your healing capabilities were at full strength, you would be up and about by now. But I believe they’re only temporarily weakened as your system finishes flushing out the silver…” Doc was speaking to himself now, pen scrawling over the clipboard.

He chuckled manically.
“Oh, Vincent, thank you. There was quite the stir when I first turned you, and some objection even now. But once I prove how useful you are in ensuring the survival of our kind…” He grinned, delightfully shaking his head.

Please,
Vincent wanted to beg him.
Please just shut up.

It was beginning to dawn on him just how screwed he really was.
Surrounded by the pack, with the Alpha nearby, he couldn’t sit up, much less stand on his own two feet. Logan and Anna might be dead. Even if they weren’t, the pack would be long gone before they even noticed his absence. And none of that took into account the matter of lending invincibility to a species of beast he’d once sworn to destroy.

He closed his eyes
. This was not good. Not good at all.

A knock on the door
frame made his eyes snap open. Nurse Biel appeared, dressed in her Sunday best. She wore a floral dress one size too small. It was covered in red roses that molded to her every roll.

“How are we doing?” she
cheerfully asked.

“He’s just coming out of it.” Doc nodded in his direction. “If you’d li
ke to ready him for the meeting…”

“That’s why we’re here.”
She gave a little hop-skip, bounding to his side. Her movements were too girlish for a woman her age. The enthusiasm they expressed scared the hell out of Vincent.

Despite this
, he didn’t have the energy to flinch away from her touch. One of her hands slipped under his back. It was ice cold, making him shudder. When she hauled him into a sitting position, his head lolled forward. A murmur of protest escaped his lips as the pain over his chest flared.

Two pack members he couldn’t place appeared at the foot of the bed. They
stared at him in shock as they took in the mottled bruising on his face and torso. Vincent felt like a lab rat as they studied him. Their eyes didn’t pause long enough to meet his glare.

Welcome to the pack
, he inwardly snarled.
We treat one another like family here. Unfortunately, that may include what follows the ‘This is Gonna Hurt Me More Than It’ll Hurt You’ speech.

“Well?”
Nurse Biel snapped at them. “What are you waiting for?”

Her words spurred them into action.
One of them stepped forward, holding a white dress shirt and what appeared to be a jacket tucked under an arm. Vincent groaned as his arms were guided into the sleeves. Judging by their tuxedos, he was to be dressed in formal attire.

He made it a point to avoid
pack meetings, although doing so tended to anger the Alpha. He’d only ever attended one meeting, and that was also an occasion on which he was half out of it. The night he became a werewolf.

Vincent
vaguely remembered being dressed up then as well. Though he didn’t recall feeling quite so patronized. Nurse Biel was
humming
into his ear as the shirt buttons were fastened one by one. Her foul odor wafted over him, the stench of decaying earth drifting on her breath.

Without
the strength to lift his head, let alone pull away, he remained docile as the jacket was fitted onto him. At least they didn’t try to fit him with a bow tie. He needed the top few buttons open to breathe.

“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,” she breathed, lowering him
to lie flat. He wanted to snap that she was off-key and the tune was all wrong. But his attention was soon brought to the hands unzipping his pants and tugging them off. He automatically tensed, only to have Nurse Biel lean over him with a knowing smile.

Her forefinger pressed against his lips. “Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbir
d.”

Dress pants
were worked over his hips and secured. Good thing they were careful about it. He may have been drugged, but he never forgot a face. And he took some injuries very personally.

Socks and
polished shoes were the finishing touch.

Al
l dressed up and nowhere to run. Wasn’t that the saying? No…

The men
took his arms and help him to stand. With an arm around each neck, it was hardly necessary for him to walk at all. They dragged him to the door. Nurse Biel led the way, her high heels tapping over the floor.

Hey,
why doesn’t Doc need to wear a tux?
Vincent wanted to ask.
That hardly seems fair.

The
wolf snarled at him. No words were necessary for him to know what it was telling him. Get it together.

The truth was,
though he felt more loopy than when he’d first woken up, his limbs no longer felt so heavy. His main concern was how everything appeared to be distorted. He was viewing the world through a funhouse mirror, one that shifted from side to side. It didn’t improve his balance. Or his chances of escape.

The haunting notes from a music box grew louder as they moved through C
ity Hall. He recognized the corridor with little surprise. A grandfather clock ticked away as the time neared eleven o’clock. Dusty, gold plagues declared Pinechester the most friendly town in Maine. They hung below a line of official governor portraits that abruptly ended over a decade ago. Only the Polaroid of a smiling little girl filled the current space. There were many holes in the wall around it, suggesting a frequent change of leadership.

“Here we are.” Nurse
Biel’s sing-song voice jarred him from his observations. She held open the door to a meeting room, allowing Vincent and the men holding him to cross the threshold. The room wasn’t impressive in its heyday, let alone after being neglected but for meetings. It only contained rickety chairs facing a chalkboard. The overhead lights were dimmer than those in the hall. One of them flickered incessantly.

D
ust particles floated through the air, as if someone had recently dusted. Vincent estimated that the room hadn’t been used for nearly two months. It held a distinctly musty smell under the scents of his fellow pack members.

He felt
their stares as he was escorted down the aisle. There were whispers as he passed.

“Isn’t that
–”

“Oh, that’s him, all right.”

“I thought he’d run off by now.”

“And leave
his wife’s grave? Not likely.”

“Doesn’t look very willing
to leave, does he?”

Vincent grimace
d, trying to drown them out. The wolf was pacing restlessly. It sensed the Alpha just outside the room. With her damn music. The tune alone set him on edge, without also overhearing the whispers of people who shunned him.

When the grain of the wood floor began to swirl, Vincent pitched forward. His heart leapt into his throat
. The fear that it might swallow him like quicksand gripped him. But someone stepped into his line of sight. A hand pressed against his chest, guiding him back. Surely it could feel his heart pattering against his ribs. When he lifted his head, the crooked smile of Jay greeted him.

You’re ours now,
it said.

Even before Jay stepped around them to walk down the aisle, Vincent was
fighting back a wave of nausea. He wanted off this carnival ride.

T
he men holding him chose seats near the front of the room. Tightly gripping his arms, they lowered him to sit on a chair between them.

“Well, th
is is cozy,” he slurred.

His arms and legs began to tremble
. It had to be from the drugs, as he didn’t feel cold. No matter. Let Tweedledum and Tweedledee grip his biceps like he was a child. One of them might be dead before the night was out anyway.

Speaking of imminent death, he should warn them about that.

“Say, uh–” Vincent glanced over his shoulder to see most of the pack staring at him. Their faces were distorted, like a Picasso painting. He blinked hard, faced forward. “You wouldn’t happen to know if there are any new werewolves around? Anyone else who’s been bitten in this area within the last few months?”

They exchanged a glance over his head. It was evident by their expressions
what the answer was, but they were hesitant to speak to him. Maybe they had been warned about him.

“It’s fine, John. The guy is drugged to the gills. What’s he gonna do?”
The man on his right finally shook his head. “We’re it. What’s it to you?”

“Uh-oh.”
Vincent bowed his head in mourning. He yawned before continuing, “Well, I don’t know which one of you has been killing travelers, but it was enough to sic two prowlers on us and sound the alarm for more. Now the entire pack needs to move. Don’t you think the Alpha might be just a little upset about that?”

Their grip on his arms tightened. He looked up to see the
men staring at one another.

“John?” The man on his right asked
. “Did you?”

For a
moment, there was silence. The circulation in Vincent’s arms was rapidly cut off. A pleasant tingling sensation in his fingers made him flex his hands in wonder.

“There
’s no way she’ll know it was me,” John finally answered.