Electric Storm (33 page)

Besides the fact that she’d died.

Again.

She pried open her eyes, dreading what she’d find, only to relax when she saw a normal room with windows and not the neglected kennels that were used in the labs. When the subtle scent of males reached her, some of the anxiety pounding away at the inside of her skull eased a fraction.

“Raven?”

She turned toward the deep, rumbled sound of her name. Whiskey brown eyes met hers. Recognition hovered at the back of her mind, something hauntingly familiar that lingered frustratingly out of reach. Smells of cut grass and fresh air swamped her senses. From him. The tanned face, thick brown hair and ruggedly handsome face gazed back, unblinking.

The intensity of his stare should’ve sent her running. Not from him though. She wanted to stretch and luxuriate at the heat building through her. The attraction should’ve scared her shitless, but it only felt right.

Or almost right. Something was missing. Something she was supposed to remember. Consuming large amounts of energy had a way of sucking away her memories.

Pain stabbed into her skull as she fought to reclaim the missing seconds. A whimper climbed out of her throat, and she pushed the heel of her hands into her eyes to relieve the pressure.

“You’re trying too hard to remember.” At Rylan’s voice, she dropped her arms and some of the blackness clouding her mind funneled away.

“What the hell happened?” She struggled to sit, only to fall helplessly back onto the bed. Her body curled into itself as pain riddled every inch of her. It took an embarrassingly long time to get her breath back to speak. “Who ran me over?”

She meant it in jest, but silence greeted her. When she could crack open her eyes again, Rylan sat at the edge of the bed with a stoic expression that sent a shaft of alarm straight through her heart. His dark hair fell over his forehead in unusual disarray. The slow tick in his jaw betrayed his emotions. “We don’t know yet.”

“Crap.” Her throat clamped tight. The smell of gasoline and blood nearly gagged her. Fragmented pictures bombarded her.

Bright lights.

Shattering glass and the sickening crunch of metal.

Gunshots.

“Taggert!” She struggled to sit again, clenching her teeth against the fresh wave of agony and all-consuming rage. “They took him.”

Jackson took pity on her and cradled her against his broad chest. She grabbed his wrist, his touch the only thing keeping her sane. Inviting heat poured from him, wrapping around her chilled flesh. She leaned heavily on him. It was either that or keel over.

“They headed north. If we leave now, we can track them.” She swung her legs over the bed, ignoring the men’s protests and the way the floor dipped under her feet.

“Dominic and London are tracking them. There is no trail.”

“Don’t say that. I can find one.” She tried to shrug Jackson off, but his hold didn’t budge. She shook her head, amazed that she’d found the infuriating male attractive for even a second. The comfort she drew from him changed subtly, the heat grew overwhelming and left her vaguely nauseous.

“You’re not ready.” Rylan kept his voice even and reasonable and it shot her irritation level higher.

“He was under my protection, and I let him get taken.”

“You didn’t let them do anything. You died trying to keep him safe.”

“A fat lot of good that did. Tell that to Taggert when they hunt him down like some prize.” Her speech left her exhausted, her side throbbed, and something inside her shoulder crunched when she moved. She pressed her lips together against the pain. She probed the area, only to be blocked by a thick wad of bandages.

“They’ll wait for you. You said it yourself. They want you to hunt them.”

“How long was I out?” She ignored Jackson and yanked the bandage obstructing her movement, wincing when a stubborn piece of tape refused to budge, and ripped off a layer of skin with it. She had to get back out there.

“The accident happened last night. Only a few hours ago.”

Her head snapped up in time to watch as a rim of black slowly darkened the edges of Rylan’s blue eyes. “You were dead one second and alive the next. No coma. No rest. You need time to heal. Your body went through a severe trauma, not to mention death. It has to have time to adjust.”

“So that’s why I feel like shit.” She shook her head and gritted her teeth as she ripped off another bandage. Sweat beaded her hairline when the small action exhausted her.

“You won’t do him any good when you can’t even stand on your feet.” Jackson grabbed her hand, stopping her from ripping off the thick cotton wrapped around her torso where the metal had bit into her ribs and side. The wound felt raw and exposed. She didn’t struggle, unwilling to lose such a simple match and prove their point.

“I can’t protect him from here. What good am I as an alpha if I can’t keep my pack safe?”

“Protection was my job. I’m an enforcer, but I let my pride get in the way.” Jackson refused to meet her gaze. He probably even believed that bullshit. “I should’ve been with you. If I had, none of this would’ve happen.”

That wasn’t right, but she found it hard to concentrate. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, cursing the way her muscles trembled. “If you were with us, they would’ve taken you, too.” 

Heat continued to pour into her, each injury stung then burned like hot oil was being poured over them. Her body no longer felt her own, and she had no idea how to appease the demands to make the pain go away. She probed the energy at her core and encountered a vast blackness of nothingness so cold that she shivered. “Something’s wrong.”

 “Step back.” Rylan gestured Jackson away. She’d forgotten he was holding her hand until he released her, leaving her cold, trembling and so alone it hurt to swallow.

“They injected me with something.” Her parched throat made speaking difficult.

Rylan lips tightened. “You died shortly after the accident. It would’ve stopped the progress of any drug. Now that you’re awake, your blood’s pumping, speeding whatever they injected you with through your system. The only blessing is some of the drug should’ve broken down when you were not...living.”

“Why drug me but take Taggert?” She rubbed her forehead when she found that the little bit of backup power she carried in her bones was gone like everything else, leaving her with nothing to burn away the poison. She couldn’t risk sucking in energy from the house to heal, not if she couldn’t control it. “They left before I died, so they had the opportunity.”

To her surprise, Jackson spoke. “They didn’t know you would die. They injected you with something to give them a head start. They expected a hunt.”

Raven inhaled slowly. She’d be fine. She just had to wait it out. Then a horrible thought struck her, destroying the tiny foothold of comfort she scraped out. “That means I know the killers.”

“They knew you were on the case. It’s a logical assumption that you’d be at the crime scene. They were probably waiting for you.” Rylan’s reasoning did little to calm her building panic.

Her skin grew warm again, itching as the animals at her core roused. Then she had the awful, sinking realization that she knew what they’d given her.

The symptoms fit.

If right, she’d have a lot more to worry about than just her injuries. “They injected me with a serum to jumpstart a shift. The animals are waking and want out. And I have no power left to hold them back.”

She resisted the urge to scratch. She’d seen that reaction before...in the infected. Right before they died by scratching the skin and flesh from their bones.

Rylan swore, but Jackson narrowed his eyes as if dissecting her statement. “Shifting is either active or dormant. You either can shift or you can’t. You don’t know until you hit puberty.”

“Even if you weren’t born a shifter?” No one spoke. So not reassuring. She risked a glance up at him, uncertain how her beasts would react to seeing him in her territory.

“I don’t believe they meant to kill me with the serum.” Not again, she wanted to say. “I think someone grew suspicious, wanted to know what I am. If I’m human, I would pass an uncomfortable night. If I’m a shifter, my animal would gain dominance.” She met their gazes, real fear stealing her breath. Shifting was one thing she didn’t know if she could heal from. She always understood if she tried to shift, it would killer her permanently.

Jackson took a step toward her, and an animal in the darkness charged forward, slashing out with a claw. Each swipe tore her insides raw. She bent double at the agony, unable to stifle her whimper. “Don’t. Your nearness is making it worse.” 

Jackson thankfully paused, then shook his head. “A full shifter should have a calming effect.”

“You’re forgetting she’s an alpha. Her beast will want to fight for dominance.” Rylan sounded grim. “She can’t transition. She’s infected with more than one strain of animal. If she shifts, we can’t predict what will happen to the other animals.”

She waited for the denial or derision, but Jackson appeared unconvinced. “The closer contact to a dominant shifter, the calmer her animals.”

“Don’t.” But Jackson took one arrogant look at her and stepped closer. She glared at him from where she was sitting at the side of the bed, unable to find words as she reacted to his nearness with a need to both crawl closer to take what she wanted from his body and conversely to rip out his throat for daring to approach her.  

She fisted her hands, pressing them hard against the mattress. Her nails throbbed, the skin of her fingertips tight as if ready to split. Then she forgot everything, nearly swallowing her tongue when he stripped off his shirt. “Wha-at are you doing?”

“I can’t change into a wolf, but the scent and touch should help.” He slowly advanced, and she gulped.

Heat burned along her veins. Her body felt too small. She stretched, straightening her spine and her joints popped. She tried to settle inside herself, but her bones didn’t seem to fit under her skin anymore. Despite the fear of the transition, her injuries slowly mended as the animals rose to the surface.

“You’re making it worse.” In answer, the big doofus dropped the shirt he held. The urge to tear into him ignited. Her fingers curled into her palms, her nails gouged flesh, and drew blood. The rich scent of it caused her skin to prickle painfully, and her teethed ached. She probed her gums with her tongue, wincing at the sensitivity.

This couldn’t be happening. A roar filled her head. Her center grew restless and shadows paced, checking the perimeter for weakness. As her control slipped further, those cages wavered. The temptation to let go danced seductively in her mind.

Not her thought.

One of the shadows detached from the group and trotted closer to the edge of where she confined them and laid down to wait.

A wolf.

For the first time, one of the animals in the menagerie became very real. Her senses sharpened. Scents became overwhelming, sounds made her ears ache. She could almost taste the air. Jackson’s smell captivated her the most. Wonder washed away some of the pain, some of the worry. She didn’t know if she should be thrilled or horrified. Did that mean she had more control over them or that they were closer to breaking free?

She couldn’t afford to find out. Bolting upright, she scrambled to the bottom of the bed. She dropped to the floor, biting off a scream of pain when she jarred her injuries. Panting for air, she stumbled to her feet and headed toward the door.

As the distance from Jackson grew, the energy in the house woke and crackled at her touch, soaking into her bones in one deluge. All thoughts of animals retreated. She doubled over as her muscles convulsed. Her insides felt shredded, but it wasn’t the animals ripping into her this time. Liquid heat burned along her skin, cauterizing the wounds in one vomit inducing second.

As if on the fritz, the overwhelming wave of power drained as suddenly as it came. She landed on her hands and knees hard enough for them to sting in protest. Air was a little harder to come by, her lungs taking a full minute to remember how to work.

The accelerated healing was worse than the injuries themselves. The brutal agony took its sweet time to fade. She wobbled, debating the wisdom of pushing herself upright when a pair of shoes came into view.

She tipped her head back and met Rylan’s concerned gaze. “Your injuries are almost healed. That type of rapid regeneration can have serious, long-term side effects.” They both knew that this couldn’t be a good sign. Part of her was relieved that her natural born power conquered the shifter DNA.

It meant those bastards didn’t get what they wanted.

Bits of power continued to roll back to her core, much too slowly for her liking, securely locking the cages and keeping the beasts at bay. For now at least. She was close to burning out. The lockbox with the golden power was half the size as if the power had faded when she died. Or maybe her body had consumed that energy, causing her to wake early without proper healing.

Rylan reached out to help her stand, but she shook her head, terrified to touch him after so much power had swept through her. It took another minute to get her feet under her.

“We have to get Taggert.” She didn’t need to tell him that they had to rescue him before her symptoms became worse. “I received a packet that should help us. Do you have it?” At his blank expression, she swore. “Please tell me you had the car towed back here.”

“It’s in the garage.”

She took a staggering step when Rylan blocked her. “Let me get it. You need to rest.”

“I need to stay busy. I’ll grab the papers and meet you in the study.” The last thing she needed was time to think about what could be happening to Taggert while she sat on her ass and did nothing.

Jackson’s total lack of response to everything put her on edge. He lingered at her back, but she refused to face him, afraid of what she’d find in his eyes. That she had almost shifted scared the bejeezus out of her. She couldn’t even imagine what he thought, and she escaped to the garage like a coward.

The envelope had lodged beneath the driver’s seat. She wrestled with the package until the car finally gave up its hold. She gazed at the twisted wreckage that resembled a ball of steel. The left side of her body felt heavy, the not quite phantom ache throbbing in memory of the impact.