First Bite (The Dark Wolf Series) (29 page)

The transformation was almost instantaneous. And painless, too—he never failed to be grateful that it wasn’t like the first fucking time. He shook himself all over like a wet dog, as if settling the wolf hide into place. Senses were in high gear now: eyesight, hearing, and most of all, scent. The intense smells of the primeval forest called to something wild in him, and he nearly strangled trying to keep himself from howling.

Behind a clump of ferns tall enough to hide her completely from sight, Baker knew that Neva had shed her clothes as well. She was pretty, and he’d love to catch a glimpse—fair was fair, and she’d seen
him
, right? But he was having enough trouble keeping his shit together just from the effects of the scenery. Fortunately Neva was putting more clothes on, an outfit that her fucking royal richness, the bitch queen, would actually be caught dead wearing. Baker had no doubt that Neva could pull off this part of their plan—it was scary how closely she could resemble her sister when she put her mind to it. It wasn’t just the dramatic change in her hair—it was the attitude, the condescending tone of voice, the body language that screamed,
Look at me, look at me, look at me
. Neva could mimic Meredith to a fucking T.

Still, when she stepped out from behind the ferns, he lost his breath. Her newly blonde hair had been loosed into long golden waves. A satiny white blouse showed off the roundness of her breasts, and a black stone pendant nestled between them. Her black leather leggings looked painted on, and continued into tall equestrian boots with tiny silver spurs. “Meredith favors stilettos,” Neva explained. “But I can’t walk in the damn things, and I’d
never
make it through the woods to the mansion. I’ve seen her wear boots like these once in a while, though, so I hope I can get away with them.”

They look fine,
said Baker. At least he thought that was what he said, but he was no longer looking at the boots. His eyes had already traveled back up to more interesting places—until he noticed she had something in her hands.
Hey, what the hell? I’m not wearing a fucking dog collar!

“It’s not just any collar.” Neva took a step toward him with the wide, coal-black loop, and the scent of rich leather assailed his nostrils. “It’s designer,” she said, as if that explained everything. “Do you have any idea how expensive this was?”

I don’t care if it’s got diamonds the size of peanuts.

She rolled her eyes. “There are
no
diamonds. Didn’t you notice that some of her wolves wear something like this?” She waved the collar at him. “It’s some kind of badge of office. I figured maybe you’d be less likely to be stopped or questioned if we get separated.”

Okay, so he’d seen a few collars on members of the pack, but hadn’t known what they were for. He eyed the leather suspiciously.
What happens if I turn back to human while I have that on?

“Nothing. It’ll disappear into the twilight zone, just like your clothes do. Besides, look at it, Baker. In order to go around your big, fat wolf neck, it’s nearly the size of a belt. You’re not going to choke or anything.”

In the end, he allowed her to buckle it on. Loosely. Appearing to be somebody important might be useful—and he couldn’t afford to pass up the slightest advantage.

Don’t like.

He nodded as he recognized his inner wolf’s voice in his head.
You and me both, bud.
As he led the way for Neva, checking for the easiest route, he wondered at the bizarreness of talking to his alter ego. If his inner wolf was on the
outside
right now, then his human mind was on the
inside
. So did that mean he was hearing the wolf’s voice in the wolf’s mind or in his own? Puzzling over that existential dilemma, he failed to sense a threat until it was upon them.

A pair of white wolves erupted from a tall stand of rhododendron trees. Fortunately, Neva’s alter ego was paying attention and she dove to one side, shifting form as she rolled—

And came up biting and snapping.

The scene was confused and surreal, a mad scramble of dark and light pelts, as Baker and Neva battled their attackers.
A flurry of magenta blossoms filled the air as if someone had viciously shaken a water globe, and tufts of fur began to join them. Neva had never fought as a wolf before, but she didn’t have to figure out what to do. Instinct was in charge here. Her wolf spun and dodged, bit deeply, and leaped away. Her small size was an advantage, and she was fast. Baker was duking it out with the biggest wolf, but she couldn’t spare him a look. She could only feint and strike, slash and retreat out of reach.

Her vision reddened, and gradually she backed her opponent up against a fallen redwood. Snake-fast, she ducked under its guard and caught it solidly by the throat, just under the jaw. Neva sprang straight up, which threw the larger wolf off balance, and brought it crashing to the ground with her on top. Her jaws were still clenched around the vital spot, her teeth already breaking the skin beneath the thick snowy ruff. Every impulse was screaming at her to deliver the final bite, to kill her enemy and—

No.

Her wolf strained to fulfill its instincts, and Neva could barely hold it back.
I said
no
! I’m not a murderer, and I’m not going to start just because I’m a werewolf.

No kill?
Her alter ego was clearly puzzled.

Travis said Changelings don’t do that. No kill, just hold on, okay?

It complied. Relieved that she’d won the battle with her own wolf—at least for the moment—Neva turned her attention to the owner of the furry throat that was oh so vulnerable between her teeth. Scent informed her of several things right away. One, the white wolf was terrified, and two, it was older than she was. Three, it was female. And four—

You’re okay?
Baker’s mental voice sounded breathless, which was strange. That’s when she realized there was only panting and
gasping behind her—the other combatants had broken off their struggle to watch what she was going to do next.

Fine. You?

My dancing partner’s really worried about his pal.

I want to know what’s going on. Why was I attacked?
She was directing her mindspeak to the wolf beneath her, but it was Baker who answered first.

Well, duh! You look like the bitch queen herself.

And thanks a lot for blowing my cover.
Neva made a silent mental note to smack him in the back of the head later, and to get him to practice focusing his thoughts more.
You don’t get it. Nobody attacks Meredith; nobody would dare.
At least not anybody in their right mind. She redirected her attention to the creature whose life she held between her teeth.
Who the hell are you guys?

The white wolf’s eyes opened wide, and the helpless jaws worked as if to form words.
I—I—you’re not Meredith!

Please don’t kill her.
The new voice sounded young. And scared.

Travis had gone over every square inch of his cell from floor to ceiling, looking for any possible weakness he could exploit. There were none. He’d examined the door in particular, to no avail. If any of it had been designed for humans, he might have been able to use his Changeling strength against it. As it was, the best he could probably do was tear the grating off the window. He’d be free as a bird then—if only he could Change into a tiny sparrow instead of a wolf.

He was dozing fitfully on the hard steel bench when suddenly his blue eyes snapped open. There were human footsteps,
small but purposeful ones, in one of the outer corridors. He had to strain to hear them until their owner came a little closer to the lockup area. Then he didn’t need to try at all—the person began deliberately scuffing the soles of their shoes as they approached.
Obviously someone knows better than to surprise Changelings.

He rose and peered through the grated window in the metal door. Zarita Arandas was a small woman, pretty, nicely curved—and alert. Headed toward Riley’s cell with a red plastic tote, she sensed Travis watching her. She stopped still and glanced around carefully until her black eyes caught sight of him. “
¡Hola!
You must be Ms. Meredith’s latest toy.” She smiled and approached his door, where she could peer up at him. “She is very excited about working with you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not very excited about it,” said Travis. “And I’m no one’s toy.”

“A toy does not have to be willing in order to be played with,” she pointed out. “The cat does not need the mouse’s permission.”

Zero points for her ability to cheer people up. He decided to cut to the chase and switched over to mindspeak.
So what’s your story? Riley says you’ve been here a long time. Why aren’t you gone?

Many emotions crossed her face at once, and the smile disappeared as if it had never existed. Looking into her deep, dark eyes, it became obvious that Zarita Arandas was a haunted woman. She shook her head at him.
Do not ask questions like that here.
“I have things to do,” she said and walked away briskly. “I will be bringing food and water later. Maybe two hours, maybe three.” Reaching for the keypad on Riley’s cell door, Zarita paused for a nanosecond, her body angled just so.

Long enough for him to see the numbers she was punching in.

Travis listened, but there wasn’t much conversation after the initial greetings. He discerned the
snick
of scissors and rustling noises—probably removing dressings—and the
tsk
ing sound Zarita made. “Your wounds are not healing nearly fast enough,” she said to Riley. “Your wolf body will help you, but you need more food, more nutrition. I will see that you get it, but you must make an effort to eat it.” She whispered then, so low that Travis almost didn’t catch it. “
Por favor.
If you do not regain your strength soon, Ms. Meredith will have you killed.
Comprende?
” Aloud, she said exactly what she had said to Travis. “I will be back in two hours, maybe three.”

Why the repeat? Travis frowned. Zarita had shown him Riley’s combination and specified a time period. What, did she think he could somehow rescue the guy?
I can’t even get out of my own damn cell.

If she heard him at all, she didn’t answer, but a growing noise in the outer corridor made him look up. He peered out of the grating and recognized the men approaching. They were the same guards who had unknowingly “rescued” him from Meredith’s underground lair earlier. Big, beefy guys, all of them, they’d make great bouncers for heavy metal concerts, or perhaps enforcers for biker gangs. Travis knew he could take them on one at a time and win, whether they were armed or not. Whether they were in human form or not. He could tackle three or four at a time and probably come out on top, even if his inner wolf didn’t show up to help him. But there were ten of them, and they weren’t stupid. One thing he’d noticed early was that Meredith didn’t employ idiots. Conclusion: they were coming to get him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Of course, nobody said he had to go quietly. But then the honor guard would double up on their efforts, and he could end up knocked out, drugged, hobbled with heavier shackles—or all
three. He could play along, but they wouldn’t trust him if he was suddenly cooperative, either. No, he needed to pretend he was in dire shape—maybe even act a little frightened. Christ, that wouldn’t be too hard if they were taking him back to Meredith’s underground playroom.
Only a moron would go back there willingly. They oughtta believe it if I drag my heels a bit.
And while he was dragging those heels, he’d be watching for anything, anywhere, that might help him escape.

I started it. I was going to kill you.

Neva’s jaws were beginning to ache, but she maintained her grip while shifting her position enough to get a better look at her vanquished foe’s partner. The other white wolf was every bit as tall as Baker’s gray form—but not as heavy. Not yet. It would fill out later, when the human who belonged to the animal persona was full grown. Crap.
How old are you?