First Bite (The Dark Wolf Series) (5 page)

The chime of an elevator door sounded, and Travis turned and walked into the car with Neva still in his arms. Several people followed them on.

“You can put me down now,” she whispered fiercely.

“Later,” he said smugly. “The nurse was right. We don’t want to wear you out.”

“And what was that bit about me being a shopaholic?”

“You know you have trouble controlling yourself.”

“I do not!”

“You can’t be helped if you don’t admit you have a problem.” He smiled and addressed a couple who were staring at them. “She was injured at a shoe sale. Trampled when the doors opened.”

“I am
so
going to hurt you,” she muttered.

She repeated the phrase when they arrived in the parking garage. “A motorcycle? Are you crazy?” she said as he set her on her feet. “Nice bike, but I’m not getting on it.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“No, I mean I’m not going with you. Thanks for getting me out and all, but we’re done. We’re even now and we’re done.” She dismissed him with a wave and headed toward the pedestrian exit. It would have been a much more dignified departure if her gait wasn’t so awkward, if the floppy little cloth slippers offered a little more protection from the hard pavement, if she was used to using a cane, and if she wasn’t dressed in a thin bathrobe with nothing but baggy pajamas underneath.

And if she didn’t feel Travis’s disapproving gaze drilling into her back every damn step of the way.

Forty-five minutes later she’d made it off the expansive hospital grounds and covered three city blocks. One block was with her own energy, and the last two were by sheer force of will. She was heading south, so the wind was at her back, but she was still freezing. Wasn’t it supposed to be May? Neva collapsed gratefully on a bench at a bus stop, and she was even more grateful that no one else was there. She had to think, had to plan. At least she had a couple of pieces of ID in her bathrobe pocket. That was all she’d been carrying the night she’d jumped—just enough to identify her body.

It was still enough. She just had to figure out a way, and
fast
. With no idea what day it was—Tuesday? Wednesday?—she didn’t know how much time she really had before the full moon turned her into something she couldn’t live with.

A killer.

Travis was relieved when Neva finally sat down. She’d slowed considerably over the last couple of blocks, but he’d been afraid she’d collapse on the sidewalk rather than take a break. Stubborn woman, he thought, but he admired her spirit. She didn’t rest long before forcing herself to her feet, however. He shook his head as she struggled down the sidewalk, determination in every limping step.

Of course, he’d been following her since she first walked away from him in the parking garage. He’d briefly entertained the notion of minding his business and riding away into the sunset, but he decided that just getting her out of the hospital building wasn’t going to solve any problems. There was still the matter of a full moon to deal with, and there was no safe place for her to go. Nope, like it or not, he wasn’t done—and besides, his inner wolf had kicked up hell from the moment Neva left his side.

He circled the Triumph around the block and came up alongside the blue-clad figure. Her pajamas were getting strange looks from passersby, or maybe it was the industrial-strength cane that she didn’t really know how to use effectively. Whatever people were staring at, she was obviously struggling.

“Hey,” he called out, but she ignored him. Her lips were pressed together in a straight line, and Travis had a sudden strange impulse to kiss them—and to smooth that little furrow between her brows with his lips, too. Shaking that image from his head, he tried again. “Neva!”

Her eyes darted in his direction, although her head didn’t turn. She was still moving forward, but so slowly that Travis had to use his feet to coast the big bike alongside the curb. “What do you want?” she snapped.

“Not a thing. Just thought
you
might want a lift somewhere.”

She stopped then and eyed him suspiciously, her arms folded in front of her. “Why?”

Why? Christ, he had no idea. “Why not?” he shot back.

The first tiny chink appeared in her armor. “It wouldn’t work. My cast…” She shrugged.

“It’ll work.” He parked the bike and opened a saddlebag. Drew out a long leather duster, helped her to put her right arm into it, and draped it around the left. The shoulders of the coat sagged midway to her elbows and the hem reached the sidewalk. Her little fabric slippers looked ridiculous poking out from under the grainy brown leather. How the hell had she walked in those?

“It’ll keep the wind off you and cover up that cast,” said Travis. “You’re going to have to sit on the bike first, though, so I can arrange the coat around you.”

Easier said than done. There was some struggling and swearing before she was seated properly, during which time he was amazed they didn’t knock over the bike. Travis settled in front of her at last, scooping up her casted leg and resting it on top of his thigh, tucking the leather duster all around it. She clutched him tightly with her good hand as he slowly wheeled away from the curb and merged into traffic.

The wind immediately snatched at Neva’s hair. A few strands were tugged free, but most of it was tucked into the turned-up collar of the enormous coat. She wished she had a helmet, then snorted—it was a silly thing to want when her plans didn’t include living more than a few hours at most.

She laid her face on Travis’s broad back. Her pain meds had worn off, and she hurt everywhere. Her position on the bike felt precarious, as if she was going to tumble off and hit the pavement at any moment, but the creature within her had left her no choice in the matter. No choice in
any
matter, it seemed. She had to leave the hospital in order to carry out her plan, and once outside of the hospital, she couldn’t get anywhere fast enough on her own. Therefore, she had no option but to trust this man. This
werewolf
, she corrected quickly. She couldn’t let herself forget that he was the very thing she was running from.

Neva didn’t have a clue what Travis’s motives were. If he was the ax-murderer type, she supposed he’d already had his chance when he first found her. Instead, he’d helped her. He’d come back for her in the hospital, knowing what she was about to become. And all without ever knowing her name. Of course that didn’t prove he didn’t work for Meredith. And now? She hadn’t even asked where he was headed, although she supposed it really didn’t matter much. He was heading east, and that was good enough for her. Once there, wherever
there
was, it shouldn’t be that hard to ditch him.

The hard part was going to be finding another way to do herself in, and fast. Before the animal inside grew strong enough to try and stop her. Or before she lost the will to carry out her plan. She closed her eyes as the stupid, useless tears started up again, and sobbed silently onto Travis’s black jacket as the motorcycle carried them down the highway.

“Where is she?”

The sharp voice rang out from the shadows at the back of the room, causing the three men who had just entered to stop in their tracks. Dozens of candles flared to life along the walls, revealing a strange series of symbols, shapes, and creatures, painstakingly drawn with black and gray powders on the moon-white marble floor. Dark spatters of blood gleamed wetly.

Another flurry of candles ignited behind an enormous velvet armchair with an ornately carved frame. The flickering light illumined the lithe form of a woman seated there and gilded the waves of her long blonde hair.

“You’re hesitating—you haven’t found her. Have you?” Meredith de la Ronde uncoiled from the armchair and stepped down from the dais like a model, pausing with each step for maximum effect in her thigh-high La Couturier boots. In lieu of the last stair, she planted her black suede heels with the bloodred soles on the naked corpse that was sprawled in front of it. To her satisfaction, not one of the three men facing her gave the dead man any notice at all. He might as well have been one of the marble floor tiles, even though he had worked alongside them until a few days ago.

If she’d been alone, she might have laughed.

Meredith had power, and she liked it. Not only did she plan to keep it, she was growing it by the day. Or rather, by the month.
The latest inductees to her pack were due to turn when the full moon reached its zenith this night. And as their sire, the one who had bitten them and shared with them the wolfen gift, she could draw energy from them, enough to fuel not only her dark spells but also her darker ambitions. Most of her pack members were mere thralls, toys and tools to be used up and discarded as Meredith saw fit. She stroked the exquisite pendant that hung between her breasts. The dark opal, set in silver, was the size of a raven’s egg, and fire flashed in its depths; as long as she wore it, she owned nearly all of the wolves she’d created, mind, body, and soul.

Geneva had been among the few who were not so easily entranced, and to make matters worse, the stupid little bitch had the nerve to
escape
. Meredith had been sick with fury when she’d discovered it. She’d killed the guards, of course, then turned her rage on whoever was handy until the anger gave way to the grief it really was. Not for Geneva herself, certainly, or for any other person. No, Meredith mourned her greatest and most powerful spell. After years of research, of trial and error, pain and blood, it was her very best creation, her Sistine Chapel, her
Mona Lisa
—

And it had been totally reliant on a quality that only Geneva Rayne Ross possessed. Without her, it simply could not be employed.
Ever.
Meredith had first sent out most of the pack to recapture the little brat—or to recover the body. Meanwhile, she secretly went to one of her underground spell rooms and wept with frustration and disappointment until she had no tears left and no more things to break. Finally she found her equilibrium.

So Geneva had escaped. So what?
Let her try to manage a first Change all by her little lonesome. She’ll die, and I won’t have to kill her. Perfect.

And if the bitch didn’t die? Geneva couldn’t hide forever, and once she was found, she would learn to do what she was told, at least
long enough to serve Meredith’s ends. And after that?
If you can’t be a good example, then you’ll just have to be a terrible warning.

“Make yourselves useful and take that away.” She waved her fingers airily at the corpse. The three men hastened to comply, giving the patterns on the floor a wide berth. Two seized the dead man and headed for the door. Meredith smirked and pointed an exquisitely manicured fingernail at the odd man out.

“You. Stay here.”

Never having had a passenger on the bike before, Travis had to admit there was something very appealing about having a woman pressed up against his back. And as he opened up the throttle on the highway, he felt Neva lay her head against him. Although he was certain it was just to shield herself from the wind, he still felt an unexpected surge of protectiveness toward her. But his wolf didn’t have to be so damn smug about it.