Dark Wolf Returning (7 page)

“Carla’s right,” Kyle agreed, his Southern drawl more raw-edged than usual. He definitely sounded like a man who was more than ready to kick some Whiteclaw ass.

“We need to get out of the trucks,” Lev said, all traces of humor gone, his gritty tone sharp with menace. “We’re sitting ducks in here. They’re probably waiting for us to try moving the tree. But
something tells me they’re not going to wait much longer.”

“Come on,” Eli grunted, grabbing her hand and pulling her out on his side of the vehicle. “You stay behind me.”

“Eli—”

“They’re coming,” Kyle cut in with a quiet growl as he came around the front of the truck, his attention focused on the road. The truck’s headlights illuminated the fallen tree and the dense woods that lined
each side of the two-lane road. “I can see them coming out of the woods up ahead. Doesn’t look like they’re armed with guns. They want blood on their hands.”

Still holding her hand, Eli yanked her closer and put his face right over hers, his rough breaths brushing over her skin. “I mean it, Carla. You stay behind me.”

Hating that he’d never been able to see her for who she was, she gave
him a slow, tight smile, releasing her claws and fangs just as he’d done. “Not—gonna—happen.”

Before he could argue, the Whiteclaw reached them, coming in fast and hard from the front, as well as the sides. Even if Eli had wanted to shove her behind him, he was suddenly too busy fighting off three attackers at once. There was no doubt the Whiteclaw soldiers had taken the drugs, their blows
feeling like a freaking truck was hitting her as Carla blocked and kicked to avoid getting cut by the two who had targeted her.

Then the strangest thing happened.

Without any planning or verbal direction, she and Eli went back to back and began working together, moving in perfect synchronization as they engaged the seemingly endless wave of assailants. They fought so well together, it
was insane. If she kicked a Lycan away, Eli twisted and slashed the male with his claws. When he swept a soldier’s legs out from under him, she swiped her own claws across the bastard’s throat. It was a primitive and deadly dance, and yet, there was a kind of savage beauty to it that the Lycan part of her soul could only appreciate, despite her fear.

She might not be afraid of the Whiteclaw,
but she was
terrified
by the connection she so obviously shared with the male fighting at her side. She didn’t even share this level of intuition with Wyatt, and she and the Runner had been partners for seven years!

When she and the pure-blooded mercenary both turned in the opposite direction and dug their claws into one of the Whiteclaw, pinning the soldier between them as their claws pierced
him front and back, Eli growled, “Reyes, what’s happening here?”

“Don’t know. Just go with it and worry later,” she muttered, pulling her claws from the Lycan’s chest. A second later, Eli grabbed the male’s neck and twisted, then tossed his lifeless body to the ground.

“Are they here?” he grunted, strands of sweat-dampened hair sticking to his gorgeous face as he turned his head to the
side and caught her gaze.

“Are who here?” she wheezed, more breathless from the surge of lust that had just slammed into her than she was from the fight. God, he’d never looked hotter than he did at that moment, with his fangs and claws dripping with blood, his tall body rippling with power as his hard muscles flexed beneath his skin, his sensual lips parted for his rough breaths.

“The
ones who hurt you in Hawkley,” he growled impatiently. “Are they here?”

Angry with herself for being so freaking mesmerized by him, she gave him a cold look. “Why? You want to compare stories? Because you’ve hurt me more than any of the Whiteclaw managed to.”

He flinched, jerking back a bit, as if her sudden verbal blow had physically struck him. His face paled and he looked away from
her as he cleared his throat. “I just wanted to know so I could kill them for you,” he told her, his deep voice stiff, even huskier than it’d been before.

Oh
. She swallowed thickly, her throat too tight to give him a response. She didn’t know the bastards’ names, but she would easily recognize their faces if she saw them. The fact that Eli wanted to kill them for her made her feel like an
ass for being such a bitch to him, but damn it, what did he expect? That she’d just sweep three years’ worth of heartache under the rug and crawl back into his bed until he grew bored and bailed on her again? Thanks, but no thanks. And, seriously, he was the one who’d walked out on her last night!

Sam and James were fighting a group of Whiteclaw to their left, Lev and Kyle on their right,
as four more soldiers came out of the woods, heading straight for her and Eli. Despite the awkwardness of the words they’d just exchanged, they still fought just as well together as they had before, Carla’s smaller size enabling her to get in shots that Eli and his men couldn’t make because of their height. The scent of Whiteclaw blood filled the balmy air, but despite the mercs’ savage skills, only
a few of the enemy had fallen, their drug-enhanced bodies capable of sustaining even the most brutal of wounds—which meant that death by decapitation or the severing of their spinal columns was the only way to take them down and ensure they stayed there.

By attacking at twilight, before she and the mercs could fully shift into the stronger, deadlier shape of their beasts, the Whiteclaw’s
drugs had put their men at a distinct advantage.

“Stay sharp! We’ve got more coming!”

The shouted warning came from James, just as a fresh wave of Whiteclaw soldiers emerged from the trees. She and Eli took on six of them at once, and though she could feel the moon rising, and knew it wouldn’t be long before they could use its power, she feared it wouldn’t be soon enough. There were
simply too many of them.

Damn it, she couldn’t fail. Not like this! Not when they were so close to the Alley they were practically on its doorstep. She used her upper arm to wipe the sweat from her eyes, and cast a desperate look at Eli, her emotions in chaos at the thought that they might die here tonight, together.

“More coming in at our backs!” Lev called out, heading around the front
of the truck.

“Don’t attack!” she shouted, her voice almost weak with relief from having caught the scent of the approaching group. “They’re Silvercrest scouts. They’ll help us!”

Over a dozen familiar-faced scouts joined them a handful of seconds later, her relief so sharp she wanted to freaking cry. With the numbers now in their favor, they were able to defeat those Lycans who didn’t
retreat, and the battle ended within moments.

Charles Decker, one of the scouts from Shadow Peak who Carla and Wyatt had been working closely with, came over to where she’d just leaned back against the side of the truck bed, her hands braced on her knees as she pulled in deep breaths of air. She’d retracted her claws and fangs as soon as the fighting was over, her fingertips and gums still
burning with heat.

Retracting his own claws, Charles shoved his sandy hair back from his face and gave her a concerned frown. “That was brutal. We were heading back up to town after checking on the south border when we heard the fight. I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner, Reyes.”

“No worries, Decker. You came just when you were needed.”

“Everyone good here?” he asked, casting a
worried look over the mercenaries as they each peeled their bloodied shirts off, then used them to wipe the sweat and blood from their arms and faces. She quickly pulled her gaze back to Charles, pretty sure her temperature had just risen from the sight of all those broad, muscular shoulders and chiseled abs. When it came to doing a body good, milk obviously didn’t have anything on mercenary work.
And the way Eli and his men had fought was beyond impressive. Though she’d handled herself well, it was clearly the mercs’ incredible skill that had enabled them to survive.

Replying to Charles’ question, she said, “We’re a little scratched and bruised, but alive, thanks to you and the other scouts.”

Charles jerked his chin at Eli as he came to stand beside her, but that was as far as
the greeting went. If the scout recognized Eli, he didn’t say, and she wondered, as she often had since she’d gone in search of him, about what kind of reaction Eli would receive from the Silvercrest. Eric and Elise had had a tough time of it after Stefan Drake’s failed coup, since there were many who chose to blame them for the twisted things that had happened because of their father. Recently,
though, it seemed that more of the townspeople were swaying in the Drake family’s favor, since Eric and Elise were now so closely tied to the Bloodrunners, and it was the Runners who were working so hard to keep the pack alive.

Nothing like a little self-preservation to make even the most bigoted of idiots become accepting.

Still, there were many in the pack, like Charles, who had made
the firm decision to give the Runners their full support simply because they respected them, and Carla was thankful as hell for each and every one of them.

“We’ll take care of the bodies,” Charles was saying, his words drawing her attention back to his friendly, freckled face. “You go and get on up to the Alley. I know Wyatt’s been worried about you.”

Fighting the urge to ogle Eli’s
mouthwatering chest from the corner of her eye, she managed to give the middle-aged scout a grateful smile. “Thanks, Charles. And say hi to your wife for me.”

Charles said that he would, and left to give the scouts their orders. One of the wolves, a thirty-something Lycan named Mike who worked as a mechanic up in town and was hot as sin, smiled at her, showing his interest, but she simply
gave him a brief nod and turned her attention back to the mercs. She didn’t do wolves. Full stop. Other than Eli, the only men she’d ever been involved with were human ones, when she was younger. Nice enough guys who had had no idea she was only half their species, which had meant the relationships were doomed from the start, though a few had lasted for several months. Thanks to her upbringing and
her mother, Carla had never trusted a Lycan male enough to get down and dirty with him. The one time she’d taken a chance, he’d left in the middle of the act and then disappeared from her life.

She didn’t think she could ever forgive Eli for that. Even if he hadn’t wanted to take her with him, he’d at least owed her a damn goodbye.

“Who the fuck is that?” Eli demanded in a low rasp,
one of his big hands wrapping around her upper arm.

Her eyes shot wide as she turned her head to look at him. “Excuse me?”

He stared down at her with a scowl, looking ready to commit murder. “The guy with the chick hair who was smiling at you. Who is he?”

“Ohmygod, are you serious?” she asked, laughing. “
Chick
hair?”

“Who. Is. He?” His voice was soft, but knife-sharp, his gaze
storm-dark and hard.

Thinking he had this jealousy act down pretty well, she gave him a bland look. “That’s just Mike. He’s a mechanic in Shadow Peak. Don’t you remember him?”

His gaze cut to Mike, then back to her again. “Yeah, I do now,” he muttered, shaking his head as he dropped his hand from her arm. “That guy was always an asshole.”

Tucking the windblown strands of her hair
behind her ears, she shrugged. “Well, he’s been nice enough to me.”

He turned his head to the side, his chest expanding as he pulled in another deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. Tension poured off his tight frame, his massive shoulders bunched, as if he carried the weight of the world on them. She was getting ready to open the door to the truck and grab a shirt from her bag so
that she could wipe her own face and arms clean, when he growled, “You let him touch you, he’s a dead man. We clear?”

She choked back another shocked burst of laughter, unable to believe his freaking audacity. “You are unbelievable, Eli.”

He leaned in even closer, his incredible scent playing havoc with her senses as the tip of his nose nearly brushed hers. “He might not be able to scent
my bond on you, but it’s there, Carla. And that means that until something changes, you’re
mine
.”

“And you care about this
now?
”

His gaze burned so hotly it made her feel scorched, her skin misting with heat that had nothing to do with the warm evening air. “You’re damned right I do,” he snarled, sounding every bit like the possessive lover she’d always longed for him to be. Too bad
it was only an act.

She licked her lips, studying him through narrowed eyes. “You’ll understand how ridiculous I think that sounds, considering you haven’t cared what I do, or who I do it with, for a long time now.”

Frustration sharpened his bold, masculine features. “Just because I wasn’t here doesn’t mean I didn’t care. I told you, my reasons for staying away were—”

“Yeah. Complicated,”
she scoffed, her lips curling in a bitter, humorless smile. “I heard that lame excuse the first time you spouted it. No need to repeat yourself.”

“Christ, Carla. It’s not an excuse.”

“Well, it’s sure as hell not an answer. Until you’re ready to give me one, don’t think you have any right to so much as even mention that
ridiculous
bond to me.”

His nostrils flared as he sucked in
a sharp breath, his shoulders so broad he damn near blocked out the glittering stars that were beginning to light the skies. The weather had started to warm since she’d gone off to find him, and as the wind whipped through the forest, it tousled his dark hair, making him look so damn sexy and...touchable. And, God, did she want to touch him. Despite her anger and resentment, she had a sickening feeling
that she would go to her grave with this incessant ache for his scent and his heat and the hard weight of his powerful body covering her, holding her, trapping her against him as if he never meant to let her go, still plaguing her. It would be a longing she could never satisfy or kill, slowly eating away at her, until she was nothing more than an empty, desolate shell.

She was cursed, damn
it, and the unfairness of it all made her throat shake, her eyes stinging as tears gathered.