Perfect Mate (15 page)

But suppress them she did, keeping her gaze locked onto the creature in front of her. He didn’t move, just looked back at her as her mind argued with itself. This was Jack. Just at the thought of him, the image of his face presented itself in her mind. A sense of safety and security accompanied it. Biting her lip, she tried to reconcile that with the massive beast in front of her. She trusted Jack, and this
was
Jack. Just another version of him.
 

Oh, don’t be so damn stupid! You’ve seen zombies ready to snack on your brains. He’s a werewolf, for heaven’s sake. Probably buttering you up for dinner later!

She squashed the nasty little voice, shoving it into the smallest box in the back of her mind. Disengaging her hands from Palmer’s, she took a step toward Jack. Her eyes were everywhere, from the claws to the tufted ears to the broad expanse of his back. Hell, he was so big he could double as a pony for a small child.
 

Could she trust him? She’d only met him yesterday and it had been a whirlwind ride ever since. As soon as she thought it, her gaze collided with his and she had her answer.
 

Warm amber radiated concern and worry in a mirror image of the expressions his men had worn. Concern for her, and worry…worry about what? He shuffled his feet, dropped his head a little. At the despondent line of his shoulders and the little whuffle he gave, it hit her. He was worried about what she thought. Of him.
 

“You silly thing,” she breathed and rushed him. She closed the gap between them within a heartbeat. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face in the heavy fur. It was softer than she’d imagined, like silk against her skin.
 

“You’re beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

Chapter Twelve

Silence filled the corridor as she stood with her face buried in the thick fur at Jack’s neck. His fur was soft and fluffy underneath, with coarse hair on top, and smelled of pure Jack. Closing her eyes, she burrowed her fingers under the coarse hair to the soft and just rested against him. The rest of the world fell away for a few precious seconds. She knew when she opened her eyes it would all still be there. The blood-splattered corridor, the destroyed corpses and the silent, not-human soldiers. She didn’t care. Just for a moment she wanted to block it all out and pretend she was safe.

Claws clicked on the floor behind her. Lots of claws. Jack whuffed softly and moved under her hold. She lifted her head and turned, peeking out from behind Jack’s scarred ear. Three more wolves walked up the corridor, padding through what remained of the zombie bodies. Paws black with zombie blood, two were easily as big as Jack was, but the third was smaller. With white fur and ice-blue eyes, she was easy to identify.

“Nic?”

The white wolf dipped her head as though nodding and looked up at Lillian through thick lashes. The anger Lillian had sensed in her in human form was still there but muted, as though she were happier as a wolf.
 

The wolf on the left was the leaner of the other two, and much smaller than Jack. His dark-gold eyes weren’t familiar, but the sandy-blond fur and the way he hunched his shoulders tipped her off.

“Sanders.” It had to be, and he was just as quiet as a wolf as he was as a man.
 

Shifting from foot to foot, she looked at the last wolf and met warm amber eyes that sparkled with mischief. She grinned in reply. “And you have to be Darce.”

“Keep this up and you’ll spark some new urban legends. The Lycan Whisperer. You’ll be famous!” Palmer chuckled. At her look, he shrugged. “Not even the doctors back at base can work out who’s who when we’ve shifted. Well, apart from Nic and the boss-man. Our gal’s coloring is too distinctive to be missed, and the captain’s too big. The rest of us are too similar in wolf form.”

She lifted an eyebrow, surprised at that, and looked back at Sanders and Darce. “But it’s easy to spot who’s who. It’s in their eyes, the way they hold themselves.”

Before Palmer could add more, the sound of running feet echoed down the corridor. Richards, sent to spy on the troops outside, skidded around the corner, hopped neatly over the pile of bodies and came to stop between the hulking forms of Sanders and Darce, followed at a run by the remaining two members of the squad, who’d introduced themselves earlier as Blake and Thom. She wondered what their wolves would look like, what aspect of their human appearance or mannerisms would cross over to their lupine forms.
 

“Move your big ass, LT,” Thom quipped as he almost collided with Darce, and the trio looked at Jack.
 

“Still got the commandos out there, and that female Blood. Choppers show no sign of giving it up either…” Richards stopped and looked around the small group. “We’re trapped.”

She froze, picking up her cue from the silent men and wolves around her. Trapped wasn’t good. They’d already sent zombies in, so what were they going to send next? Dracula? They’d already said there was a vampire out there, so…Bride of Dracula?

Jack dropped his head and slid out from under her arm. Feeling an immediate sense of loss, she tried not to pout and stepped away as he started to change. Like before, it was like a scene out of a cheap horror movie as his fur receded, swallowed up into his skin as bones popped and skin stretched. Unlike with Darce in the cell, this was quick. Under the influence of silver, Darce had seemed unsure about what shape he needed to be, but Jack certainly knew. Within seconds, he’d shifted forms, and a familiar figure crouched where the big wolf had been.

A familiar and very naked figure.

Oh my
. Her eyes widened as he uncurled himself and stood. She knew the ripped physique, the toned muscles. She was even visually acquainted with his tight-as-hell ass. The light smattering of hair that followed the center line of his toned abs, teasing her earlier by disappearing into his pants, was fully revealed now. It arrowed down his flat stomach and beyond to thin out just before it reached his groin. Her eyes widened as she got a glimpse of his cock, but before she could blush, or even look away, Palmer moved and a bundle of cloth hit Jack in the middle of the chest.
 

“For fucks sake, put it away, boss man. Some of us don’t want your one-eyed staring us in the face.”

A grin twisted the Alpha’s lips as he started to pull the pants on. “Button it. We all know you’re just jealous.” The banter slid from his lips without apparent thought because the next moment Jack’s expression was serious.
 

“Now, listen up,” he said, his voice calm and collected. “Because I’m going to make this short and sweet.”

The squad moved closer, even the wolves. Lillian found herself between the furry bulk of Darce and the smooth-skinned heat of Jack’s half-naked body. The absurdity of the situation hit her as as he started to talk. She was stuck between a wolf and a guy who looked like he’d stepped out of a Hollywood blockbuster. Oh yeah, and they were about to battle zombies and could die. It sucked to be her.
 

“We’re trapped like rats in a cage, and the enemy is knocking on the door. They sure as fuck ain’t here to borrow a cup of sugar. Oh no, they’re breathing down our necks with a Blood, flamethrowers…”
 

The three wolves pulled their lips back and snarled at the word. She guessed that even though they were human some of the time, the instinctive fear of fire was still strong.
 

“And a couple of gunships. You know why? Because we’re different. They made us what we are, but they can’t control us. They opened Pandora’s box, and now they’re shitting themselves because they can’t close it. So they made themselves judge, jury and executioner…and our numbers are up.”

Jack paused for breath as he finished buttoning his pants. “But you know what? Fuck ’em.” His snarl echoed along the tiled walls of the corridor. “They might be Project, they might be human—most of them—but they are now the enemy, and they should be in no doubt we are their nemesis.”

Her breath caught at the power and conviction in his voice. It sounded very much like one of those “we’re outnumbered, behind enemy lines, let’s take as many of the enemy with us” speeches from just about any of the war movies she’d seen.

“I know I’m not going to make it. But this has been coming since they shoved that virus in my veins and made me into what I am. But that’s cool. I just didn’t make it out this time.”

“Hmmm, Jack?” she tried to interrupt, but her soft query fell on deaf ears, buried under his impassioned speech.

“But the line must be drawn. Here.” He pointed savagely at the ground. “Here and no further. Here they learn what pissing off a Lycan pack means. If we’re damned, then let’s be damned for what we
really
are.”

“Jack,” she tried again, her voice louder this time. “You don’t need to. I think I have—”

He wasn’t listening to her, too caught up in the drama of the moment.
 

“We’ve got to get mad to fulfill that promise, to fuel the fire and prove to them that they do
not
want to fuck with us. That they can start the fight, but we
will
finish it.”

“Jack, there’s a way out.”

“This is our time…this is
our
day. This is—”

“Would you
shut up and listen, you stupid mutt?”

The silence after her shout was so complete that the sound of a pin dropping would have deafened. All eyes swiveled toward Lillian, the stunned expression on their faces so comical that, if the situation hadn’t been so bad, she’d have burst out laughing.
 

Nic slid to the floor and covered her nose with her paws. Beside her, Darce’s gold-amber eyes sparkled with amusement. Jack was the first to find his voice.
 

“Did you just call me a mutt?” he asked carefully.

“Yes! Fur, paws…” she gestured vaguely in his direction. “Selective deafness. Just like my aunt’s lab. He always ignores me unless I have food for him. So…mutt.”

A sense of amusement rippled through the pack, Palmer putting voice to it. “A lab. Yeah, I can see that… Boss does look kinda lab-like. It’s around the ears, I think.”

If looks could kill, Palmer would have keeled over from the furious glare Jack shot him.
 

“Well, darling, you have all my attention now. What’s so important you have to call me a mutt?”

“Don’t forget the lab part.” Richards grinned.

Jack ignored the muttered comment in favor of looking at her. His eyes were solid amber. She sucked a breath in, not in fear, not entirely. There was something almost hypnotic about him. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, not really, but the element of danger thrilled her right down to her toes.
 

“Oh, yes!” Fighting the pull of his unusual eyes she forced herself to remember what she’d been going to say. “There’s a way out. There’s an old maintenance tunnel, leads to the old boiler house. It’s gone now, the boiler house, but the tunnel’s still there.”

“And you’re sure this isn’t on the modern plans?”
 

Jack still couldn’t believe his luck as, back in their impromptu war room, Lillian spread an old map over the architect’s plans they’d been looking at earlier. Part of him wanted to howl in frustration. If she’d just told him about this earlier, they could’ve gone before the RAs got here.
 

“Nope, not at all.”
 

She shook her head as she finished spreading the map out and leaned over it. Her ample breasts pressed against the thin blouse she wore. His gaze riveted to the delectable sight. The swell of the luscious globes winked at him, peaking above the deep vee of her neckline. His mouth watered, his body reacting in an instant.

Jack ignored the reaction and forced himself to concentrate on the map in front of him. It was old, the paper beginning to yellow, and hand-drawn in the style of a bygone era. He traced the lines with his finger. There was a whole level missing from the new plans.

“The architect who came to survey the place was a sleaze…more interested in hitting on the female staff and making cracks about funny farms. Since he was only interested in the other wing, I figured he didn’t need to know about the sub-basement level in this one. Besides, I’d have been tempted to lock him down there and throw away the key,” she admitted with a wry grin.

He followed a narrow set of lines, which cut off with a wavy symbol. “The tunnel?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It re-appears here, coming up under the old boiler house. The structure’s gone now, there’s a little copse out in the gardens to provide visual interest for the patients instead. The tunnel itself should be sound, though. I checked it out about six months back, and there were no signs of damage or imminent collapse. I think… I’m no expert, though.”

A combined mixture of relief and admiration, he allowed the grin that had been lurking to emerge and spread across his lips. They had a way out. He could get his men, and Lillian, to safety. Heat filled his body as he slid a caressing glance over her curvy figure again. When they were somewhere safe, he was going to take her to bed. Claim her, mark her, make her his and his alone.

Chapter Thirteen

“Shhh, sound carries well through the ventilation ducts,” Lillian scolded as the wolf pack crowded past her, chattering between themselves as they congregated on the small landing. Below them, the stairs reached down into the darkness. Not one of them seemed willing to move off the top step without their petite, human guide. Jack’s lips quirked. Big, scary werewolves, afraid of the dark.