Twice Cursed (23 page)

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Authors: Marianne Morea

Tags: #werewolf, #werewolf and vampire, #werewolf family, #werewolf paranormal romance, #werewolf romance vampire romance paranormal romance thriller urban fantasy, #werewolf romance werewolves and shifters, #werewolf and vampire romance, #cursed by blood series, #urban fantasy suspense, #werewolf saga

BOOK: Twice Cursed
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The cougar stayed downwind of the
wolf. Over the years, he’d learned to neither anticipate nor
underestimate his prey. As a tracker, he’d been lucky. Of course,
size and his natural feline abilities added to his success, but in
all his years as a mercenary, Miller had never tracked anything
like the wolf he hunted now. The animal was completely absorbed. It
was obvious the wolf was in hunting mode, but his scent told the
tracker it was rage, not hunger that drove him.

The wolf stopped, sniffing the air and
circling. The large canine had caught the scent of something close.
Something that didn’t belong in these woods. Something
big.

Instinct and hundreds of kills told
the tracker to hang back. This wasn’t going to be a pretty kill.
Scenting an abandoned fox den, the cougar hunkered down in the
brambles. The fox’s scent would mask his for the time being, giving
him time to maneuver.

The wolf’s hackles rose, the dark,
course hair bristling along its spine. A low growl had left his
throat before he took off, launching himself through the trees.
This was no play for power; the wolf was purposeful, and he was
looking for a fight.

Miller followed. Picking up speed, he
circled around, using his keen sight to gain ground. This was it.
Climbing to the low hanging branches of a bare oak, he crouched,
waiting for the wolf to pass. The cougar’s nose twitched. He was
close enough to smell the musk from the wolf’s fur, sense the heat
from the canine’s body and the vibration of his rage and bloodlust
coursing through the air. This was going to be one hell of a fight,
and the big cat’s mouth watered in anticipation.

 

***

 

The moon was full. One more day and
his craving for her would be unbearable. Lily had been gone a
little less than a week. Sean raised his muzzle to the air and
whined. He’d been so concerned about protecting her from the frenzy
inherent in a Were’s need to race the moon, he never considered
what marking her held in store for him.

Sean knew Parr was biding his time,
hedging bets the alpha would abdicate. The wolf growled. Marking
Lily was a double-edged sword, and a decision that played right
into Parr’s hand.

How could he have been so thoughtless?
Every Were understood what marking a mate demanded. Sean’s inner
wolf would never yield to the constraints, and the more time that
passed, the more insistent his frustration would grow. The wolf’s
physical need to mate with his chosen partner would drive him
crazy.

He and Lily had barely kept in touch
through their shared mind link, choosing instead to communicate
through neutral territory, namely, Jack. Deep down, they both knew
how exhausting it would be, but for Sean, the torment was
exquisite, knowing his need would only intensify as their
separation moved from days into weeks. It was like living in a long
distance relationship with someone close enough to
touch.

Hunting was the only thing that kept
the relentless longing at bay. He spent most of his time as a wolf,
except for those duties that required him to be present in his
human form. Sean reveled in the sheer animalistic pleasure of
it—the feel of the earth beneath his paws, the natural scents and
sounds of the forest—and what better way to patrol the Compound’s
perimeter?

The wind was high tonight, and he
reached out to Lily, hoping the feel would be as exhilarating for
her, but he found her mind jammed up, almost on
overload.

Sean sensed it the minute he touched
their link, mental alarms buzzing in his head like a swarm of bees.
A quick link to Jack told him it was nothing more than just Lily
being Lily, and a rush of edgy relief exhaled past his lips. He
should have known she would plunge herself into work the minute she
got back; meanwhile, intense need coursed through his aching body,
the current burning a path across every nerve ending with each
passing hour. The wolf chuffed, scraping the frozen ground with its
paws. The full moon couldn’t wane fast enough.

He sent a howl full of frustration
roaring over the wind, piercing the night like a dagger. Animals,
large and small, took off in all directions at the sound, and Sean
raced toward the deep woods in a frenzy of violence and unspent
passion.

The wolf was pure alpha, his thoughts
frenetic. The words, Hunt… Blood…Kill, rose in a wild frenzy from
within. The diverse scents from the forest—fox, deer, even otter,
mingled together making his mouth water, but none of them would
suffice. He wanted something big. A black bear or even a stray
grizzly. Something that would fight back.

He caught the scent of bear as he
raced, but another scent lingered on the air, overpowering it. It
was subtle, as if purposefully camouflaged, but still strong enough
to catch the wolf’s attention. With his muzzle to the sky, he
inhaled again, but couldn’t place the smell.

Unsure, the wolf postured, readying
himself. Whatever was skulking in the shadows was his for the
taking. Hackles up, the wolf’s black lips curled back, exposing his
fangs in full attack arousal.

Without warning, the air stilled. The
wolf turned, his nostrils flaring as the largest cat he’d ever seen
climbed silently down from the branches adjacent to where he stood.
Cougar. But what the hell was it doing this far east? Mountain
lions did not make their homes in New York. In fact, they were
considered an extirpated species.

The wolf’s eyes followed the animal,
and it jumped from the tree trunk to the ground. Hissing, it paced
back and forth, its expression calculating and intelligent. So
close, the wolf breathed in, tasting the big cat’s scent. This was
no stray venturing too far from its environs. Nor was it some
random happenstance. This cat was a Were, and someone had sent for
it.

Legs splayed, the wolf
lowered his head, snapping and growling in a teeth-baring
grimace.
“Who sent you? Why are you
here?”
Sean tried the common telepathic
path shared by most Weres. One warning—that was all he’d give. He
was in no mood to be civil.

The large cat snarled and hissed but
didn’t answer. Its curved, razor sharp claws scored the frozen
earth like butter as it moved fluidly from side to side, advancing
slowly.

In its animal state, the
cat couldn’t bar Sean from breaching the mental walls surrounding
its most recent human interaction. Images, clipped and disordered,
answered the Alpha’s question, and the cat snarled a feline
“fuck you”
in
reply.

The wolf’s mammoth black shape flew
through the air as he launched himself at the mountain lion.
Driving it back toward the tree, the huge wolf ripped and tore at
the sandy brown cat, locking his jaws around its hind leg. Bones
crunched. The cat screamed, the shrill sound penetrating the silent
forest. It twisted around; its movements fluid and graceful, even
through the pain, and with a high-pitched screech, it landed a
vicious swipe across the wolf’s muzzle. Sean coughed out a yelp,
releasing his hold.

Breathing hard, they jerked apart,
separate but still circling, shadowing each other’s stances. The
cougar coiled and lunged, its front paws hitting the wolf in the
chest, knocking him backward. With a terrifying growl, it bit down
on the wolf’s shoulder, ripping through bone and muscle. But the
wolf countered, twisting its body out from under the cat’s heavy
paws.

Panting, the wolf shook itself,
splattering blood across the cold ground, causing tiny tendrils of
steam to rise from the frost-covered earth. Growling and snapping,
the wolf charged again, grabbing the cat by the throat. Ignoring
the deep slashes the cat’s claws sliced across his flesh, the two
locked together in a deadly dance. Blood stained the earth, mixing
with dirt and leaves as it dripped from both animals.

Yanking himself free, the wolf raised
his head and howled. The cat’s head jerked to the north at the
long, low-pitched sound. The pack was coming. With one final lunge,
the wolf sank its teeth into the distracted animal’s throat. The
large cat spasmed once, its body falling silent. The wolf released
the cat’s throat. The sleek body, silver in the moonlight, slowly
transformed back to its human state. The wolf howled once more, the
urgent modulation letting the pack know it was over.

He backed up and sat on his haunches
to wait. The answering chorus followed by the sound of paws hitting
the earth echoed louder as they neared. Steam rose from the blood
cooling on the snow and the lifeless body at the center of it all.
One by one, the wolves passed through the trees to the clearing.
The black wolf yipped, and in a snap of bone and electricity,
phased back to human form.

The others followed suit, and within
moments, four men stood naked and pumped in the cold wind alongside
their Alpha.


What the hell?” Mitch said
circling the pale body lying in the snow. “He smells like a cat,
but it’s hard to tell what kind with all the blood and musk from
the fight. Probably bobcat.”


Cougar,” Sean
said.


Cougar? As in Mountain
Lion?”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “I just fought
the animal, Mitch, what do you think?”

Mitch whistled low. “Big cats like
those don’t usually venture this far east. What the hell was he
doing in our backyard?”


It was a hit.”

Four sets of eyes turned toward Sean.
“A hit? As in assassination attempt?”


Are you planning to
question everything I say tonight?” Sean eyed his
second.

Mitch grinned. “Sorry. I just don’t
get it. Who’s got a beef with you so big they’d risk hiring an
assassin?”

Sean’s eyes met his. “I’ll give you
one guess.”

His second in command’s eyes hardened.
“Just say the word and he’s a dead man.”


No. I want blood as much
as you do, but this requires finesse or it’ll end up spin-doctored,
and we won’t be able to touch him. Just take the body back to the
manor. Don’t let anyone see you. I know what I need to do, so just
be ready.”

 

***

 

Sean kicked in the door to the war
room, flanked by Mitch and another of his hunters, the tracker’s
lifeless body wrapped in a blanket and slung over his shoulder.
“Good evening, gentlemen. How apropos I find so many of you here,
and in such good company,” he said, letting the venom drip from his
voice.

Almost half the council sat around the
fire blazing in the large stone hearth, Edward Parr center stage as
usual.


What’s the meaning of
this, Leighton?” Ross Stanton asked, pushing himself up from his
seat. The colorfully embroidered crest of the Avian Weres was
visible on his shirt pocket.


Do you want to tell them,
or should I?” Sean asked, directing the question openly to
Parr.


I haven’t the faintest
idea what you’re talking about,” the older man answered, his face a
mask of nonchalance.


Hmmm
. How about assassination? How’s that grab you?”

A collective gasp reverberated off the
surrounding walls, all eyes turning toward Edward Parr. “This is
ridiculous. How dare you barge in here and hurl accusations at me?
Where’s your proof?” Parr shot back with a dismissive
wave.

Sean dropped the dead body at Parr’s
feet. “There’s all the proof I need.”

Except for the crackling of the fire,
the room was silent. Mitch took a step forward and rolled the body
over with a muffled thud. Uncertainty buzzed around the room, but
Sean’s gaze never wavered as he watched Edward’s face.

The man was unperturbed, his
expression a mask of complete indifference. “Rubbish. He could be
anyone,” Parr stated, his Cheshire cat smile cemented in place and
his tone as smooth as silk.

However, after spending so much time
in wolf form, Sean didn’t miss the underlying tang of unease coming
from the man, despite his apparent lack of concern.

As if he sensed it, Parr lifted his
eyes to Sean, his gaze calculating. “And how convenient for you
that he’s dead. Now no one can question him.”

Sean crossed his arms in front of his
chest, his gaze still locked on Parr. “He was a tracker. An
assassin, known in certain circles by the name of Cat’s Eye.
Perhaps you’ve heard of him, considering he hails from the Pacific
Northwest, not far from where you originally came from,
Edward.”


Sean, surely you’re not
accusing Edward of such a heinous crime? It’s
unthinkable…”

Sean put up his hand. “Don’t waste
your breath, Stanton. I was in the tracker’s head as we fought. I
saw everything. But as Edward has so opportunely pointed out, it’s
too late to question him, although you’re all welcome to see for
yourselves,” he said tapping the side of his head. “Those of you
gifted with telepathic ability are more than welcome to the instant
replay.”

No one moved, but furtive glances
rounded the circle, making it clear to Sean and his hunters that
Parr hadn’t acted alone.

Sean frowned. He reached into his
jacket and pulled out a set of falconer’s gloves, the same set
given to him when he had accepted the call to be Alpha. Smacking
them across his palm, he then threw one of the wide leather
gauntlets to the floor between Parr and the dead tracker—the
Alpha’s crest emblazoned clearly on the cuff for all to
see.

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