EnemyMine (20 page)

Harder
, his wolf snarled.
Mark her with our scent.
Warn others to stay the fuck away from her
.

He released one of her legs and placed his fingers over her
clit, working at the nub. Mary closed her eyes and cried out, squirming against
him. He wanted them to come together, to feel her squeezing him like a fist as
he shot his semen inside her. It wouldn’t take much, just a few more touches
and the right thrust and angle of his cock.

“Is this what you need?” he asked, panting as he held back
his release.

“Yes,” she breathed. “God yes.”

He moved faster, in and out of her body, plucking at her clit.
Her pussy gripped him, tight and wet. The base of his spine started tingling,
electricity shooting through his muscles. He was so close, dangling at the edge
of the cliff. Sweat covered his back and chest, cooling the fire under his
skin. Just a few more seconds and he wouldn’t be able to stop. She was so wet
he slid his finger over the bead at the top of her sex, rubbing frantically.

Come, sweetheart. Come.

The instant he felt her pussy clasp him and heard Mary
shout, he let himself go. He threw his head back, shouting as he came, floating
in the pleasure of climax. He continued taking her fast and deep, groaning at
the ripples around his cock. Pressure in his sac vanished, the bursts of his
seed filling his mate. Again and again he slammed into her. A shudder racked
him, traveling from his head to his toes.

She welcomed him when he lowered her leg, reaching out with
open arms. He slipped into her embrace, resting his head on her chest. Her
heart pounded against his ear, her breaths quick and raspy. Both parts of
him—man and wolf—sighed in satisfaction. Tension from the day’s events faded.
He felt his female’s fingers comb through his hair, her touch soothing and
tender.

“That was nice,” she whispered, sounding as content as he
felt.

“Nice?” He smiled and brushed his cheek against her breast.
“I think I can do better than that.”

Her fingers stilled. “Better?”

“Oh yeah.” He could do better—a whole lot fucking better.
He’d given her a quickie. The next time around he was going to make the session
last for hours. “Rest up while you can. I have plans for you.”

Her giggle swept through him, the sound airy and feminine.
He’d never give this up. He’d destroy anyone or anything that tried to take her
from him. Mary was the most important person in his life and she always would
be.

Only death could keep him from the woman destined to be his.

Chapter Fourteen

“I’ll take the back while you watch the front. If anyone
exits the building, take them out,” Diskant said to Kinsley and motioned at the
pack members venturing inside with him. He stared at the aging apartment
complex, knowing his mate was inside.

“You got it,” Kinsley responded, moving back. “You heard
him. Follow me.”

The remainder of the pack followed the feline Alpha,
stepping behind him.

The back of Diskant’s neck prickled. His senses were on
hyperalert. There was no sign of Trey—not even a hint of his scent—and Ava was
too close to home, in a location that wasn’t difficult to find. In fact, had he
ventured to the spot she was taken, he probably could have tracked her here. He
cursed himself for not doing so, for sending someone else and leaving her alone
and afraid in the process. The most powerful animals inside him raged—the wolf
growling for vengeance, the grizzly lashing out with its claws, the panther
baring its teeth.

No longer.

He scented the air as he prowled toward the building, gazing
from side to side, and picked up the unique smells of three males. They had
been in the vicinity recently, but since the scents were fading he was certain
they’d moved on. Nothing made sense. Why bring Ava here only to abandon her?
Why not bring Trey? If Shepherds had made the effort to take the two, what
possible purpose could they serve in this capacity?

Memories of the past assailed him—of the bodies of his pack
mates who had died months before, some of them literally blown to pieces—and he
cleared his nose to take another, longer breath. He couldn’t necessarily smell
the components of a bomb but the least he could do was try. The only thing that
greeted him was New York air, the scent of a nearby dumpster and the rotten
stench of decay from an animal that had died within the last few days.

Something was
definitely
wrong.

He stopped the men with him, lifting his hand as he reached
for the handle on the door. “Stay here. Keep an eye out.”

Several of the shifters growled their discontent, wanting to
follow him, but they obeyed the command. If there was danger inside—or worse, a
device that could blow them all to kingdom come—he wanted to make sure that the
pack survived. Another loss like the one before would not only weaken the pack,
it might possibly force them to branch out and seek other Alphas for
protection. Not to mention they’d have to find a new Omega to keep things
running smoothly in the city.

Shit.

There wasn’t even a squatter inside, the building nothing
more than walls with flaking paint, dust that littered the stairs and garbage
from people who had used the spot for refuge in the past. He thanked his
shifter genes as he climbed the stairs, his footsteps blessedly quiet, allowing
him to move without detection. Uneasiness continued to ride him, a nagging
voice inside his head warning him all was not as it seemed.

Ava’s scent grew stronger as he continued up, making his
heart accelerate. His female was in danger and now she was within his reach.
Possessive and protective instincts consumed him, making his fingers tingle as
his nails became claws.

Anyone near his mate was as good as dead.

He knew he’d made it to his destination thanks to his nose.
Drawing a large breath, he scented Ava, hoping to determine if she was injured.
If she had been wounded, the damage was minimal. He couldn’t detect the rusty
aroma of blood. Of the smells he’d identified earlier—of the men who’d recently
been inside the room—only one lingered. However, the scent was fading, telling
him the people responsible for his mate’s attack were gone.

Cracking the door open with his boot, he peered inside,
making out the edge of a bed. He allowed the wolf to rise, feeling fur brush
the inside of his skin. His teeth sharpened, becoming long and deadly.

With a swift kick, he knocked the door inward.

The air shifted, the motion of the door sending a layer of
dust spilling through the air but little else. His gaze flew to Ava, her small
form resting on the stained mattress atop the cheap metal frame of the bed.
Judging by the rust along the head and footboards, the bed had probably been
abandoned around the same time the building was.

“Ava?” he whispered and rushed to her.

He growled when he kneeled, finally smelling a hint of her
blood, seeing the circular rips in her sweater. Although he wasn’t certain, he
had a pretty damn good feeling she’d been shot with darts of some kind. There
was also a small circular bruise on her neck, the skin healed over and on the
mend. She didn’t stir when he stroked the spot. Thankfully her chest rose and
fell, the motions steady and smooth. Apparently the sedative was still working
on her system, meaning the Shepherds had given her something strong enough to
last.

The heavy weight on his shoulders disappeared. Ava was here,
and she was safe.

Thank fucking Christ.

He forced his claws to retreat as he turned her to her
stomach and untied the ropes holding her hands at her back. Then he lifted her
and brought her tiny body to his chest. “Let’s get out of here, Pinkie.”

This time he didn’t hesitate or proceed with caution. He ran
to the stairs and headed down. By now his inner alarm was practically
shrilling. Something wasn’t wrong, it was totally fucked-up. Whatever the
Shepherds had planned wasn’t good. The sooner he returned to the pack, the
sooner he could figure out what was going on. The threat wasn’t visible but he
could feel its presence. There was a heightened sense of awareness. The strange
turn of events had been organized, a careful plan taking place right in front
of him.

And somehow—for some reason he wasn’t yet aware of—he, Ava
and Trey were part of it.

* * * * *

Nathan clicked off his cell phone and tossed it on Diskant’s
desk. All the calls were made, the Alphas in the areas closest to Shepherd
compounds informed of their locations. If the packs were going to move against
their enemies, they now had the information to do so. Until Diskant got back,
he’d done all he could as the Beta of the pack.

Feminine laughter drifted to the office from a bedroom
upstairs, reminding Nathan he wasn’t alone. Although he was accustomed to
Diskant and Ava’s mating, Emory and Mary’s pairing was brand new—meaning he
couldn’t help but envy the man who’d found his destined female. At one hundred
and thirty, he wasn’t as old as Diskant or Emory, but he experienced the need
for his mate, the desire to find the one and only person who would complete
him.

How long would he wait? A decade? A century?

His lifetime?

He dry washed his face with his hand. Thinking about what he
didn’t have would only make him an ass to everyone around him. The pack didn’t
need that shit right now. Maybe it was time to take one of the shifter females
up on their offer of a night of no-strings sex—sex that would quench his
bestial hungers and give him a few months of peace. Lowering his hand, he
grinned. Andrea had been pissed as hell when Caden had told her no. She’d
probably love the chance to show the human what he was missing. What better way
to establish her sexual prowess than a night in the Beta’s bed?

A fracturing noise indicated the door leading to the garage
opened. He cracked his neck, hoping for good news, and his sense of smell
kicked in. Slowly he rose, forcing the wolf to remain silent instead of
exhibiting a low, rumbly growl of warning. The scent was unfamiliar but he knew
the intruder—
no
, he corrected himself as he picked up two other smells—
intruders
were human.

With a quiet motion, he opened the desk drawer containing a
gun. He unlatched the safety and stepped around the desk, walking toward the
door. Whispered voices became louder and he heard footsteps approaching.

“I’m going upstairs. Stay here,” a deep male voice
instructed.

Nathan almost growled again. Mary and Emory didn’t know they
had company.

Shit.

The creak of the stairs as someone climbed put Nathan in
motion. Emory needed to be warned there was a threat to his mate. Remaining
silent until a window to protect the home arose wasn’t going to happen.

“Yoohoo,” he said softly, getting the attention of two men
at the foot of the stairs.

They turned, giving him plenty of access to their bodies.
Two shots hit them dead center, bullets piercing their upper torsos. Although
the gun had a silencer, the sound of their bodies dropping echoed in the quiet house.
Nathan rushed for the stairs, screaming as he went, hoping he was in time.

“Emory! You’ve got company! Get your ass in gear!”

He felt a pinch in his shoulder, knocking him off course,
before he heard the poof of the gun obviously equipped with a silencer. He
stumbled when the bullet passed through him and embedded in the stairs,
cracking and splintering wood. Blood gushed from the wound and didn’t stop,
pouring over his shirt. He gazed down at the damage, noting the pain radiating
through his torso, the burn spreading through his muscles.

Silver. Fuck.

Just as he spun his head around to look at the Shepherds at
his feet, he saw the gun pointed at him. The man Nathan had shot in the chest
was almost done for, but not quite. He winced as he pulled the trigger, getting
off one final shot.

Lights exploded behind Nathan’s eyes, blinding him as a
sharp pain nailed him in the temple. He bowed over with the pain, trying to
stay focused. The world rotated, the room spinning beneath him. Warm wetness
dripped down the side of his face, the blood hot and pulsing from the wound. He
lifted his hand to assess the damage, angry when his arm wouldn’t cooperate.
The lights started to dim as darkness took over.

Nathan would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so fucked
up. He’d been shot several times in the last few months—each time by
Shepherds—while defending females who belonged to other men. As he crumbled to
the hard stairs beneath him, he found it ironic that he would think of a mate
of his own minutes before he died protecting someone else’s.

Life’s a bitch and then you die.

He groaned, fighting a battle he couldn’t win. As he dove
headfirst into the blackness, he hoped Emory had gotten ample warning and was
able to protect Mary. At the very least, if this was the end of the line,
Nathan wanted the satisfaction of knowing his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

Chapter Fifteen

Mary gasped when she was tossed to the ground, landing with
a thump when her ass connected with the hard floor. Emory didn’t follow her,
taking up the space on the other side of the bed facing the door. She’d heard
Nathan’s furious bellow, knew something was wrong, but she hadn’t had time to
comprehend anything. The moment he’d called out Emory had moved away from her,
shoved her from the bed and launched off the mattress.

“Stay down.” The words were more of a snarl. Emory didn’t
sound like a man, his baritone deeper. “No matter what happens, don’t move.”

The door burst open and her heart dropped to her stomach.
She recognized the man standing in front of her. He’d not only ruined her life
but he’d ruined every hope and dream she’d had as a woman. Even now he appeared
larger than he was, more monster than a man. He lifted his hand and pointed a
sleek-looking gun at Emory.

How did he find me? What do I do?

“It appears I’ve arrived just in time. I’ve come for my
niece.” Elijah Shepherd spoke in the way Mary hated, his calm and collected
manner nothing more than pretense. She’d fallen victim to the tone on more than
one occasion, even after he’d beaten her the first time. For some reason she’d
continued to hope that maybe he would change, that perhaps he’d finally grasped
what he was doing was wrong, only to discover he seemed to enjoy being nice
before he revealed his sadistic nature.

“My
mate
,” Emory emphasized the word, growling as he
blocked her from view, “isn’t going anywhere with you. You’re in my domain now.
The rules have changed. You won’t get away with throwing your weight around
here.”

Elijah’s lips quirked. “We’ll see about that.”

Emory charged for the door but didn’t make it to his target,
was stopped at the halfway mark. The blaring roar of gunfire that Mary expected
didn’t happen. Instead she heard odd airy noises. Elijah pulled the trigger
twice and each time Emory’s body jerked. Then, as if she was watching a film,
he went to his knees and fell facedown. A loud noise pierced the air, ringing
in her ears. It wasn’t until Elijah stepped around Emory’s body—a red stain
spreading beneath his still form—that she realized she was screaming.

A shirt—Emory’s T-shirt—slapped her in the face. “Get up and
get dressed. You should be ashamed of yourself, bedding with one of them like a
common whore. You should be grateful your parents aren’t alive to see you now,
to know what you’ve become.”

She shook her head, wanting to wake up, thinking it had to
be a bad dream. Emory wasn’t dead. A gun wasn’t pointed in her face. She’d wake
up and she’d be safe and sound in bed. Nightmares like these were common. She
just had to wake up.

Damn it, wake up!

“Don’t make me ask again.”

It’s not a dream
. She gazed past the barrel, looking
into the face of her uncle. Somehow she managed to manipulate her shaking
fingers and slip into Emory’s shirt. Her thoughts were scrambled, fear and
disbelief swirling together.

“Why?” A stupid question, to be sure. Why did he do
anything?

Acceptance made her calm, just as it had when she’d been
abused and belittled. Her relative had been raised with the belief that what he
was doing was right. He’d attempted to instill those same morals in her, using
physical force when she didn’t comply, hoping to beat his demented logic into
her head.

“Stand up. I don’t want to kill you in this den of depravity
but I will. God forgive me for wanting to bury you properly with a prayer to
see you off. It’s a wasted effort but you are family, no matter your sins.”

“We have to get something first.” She wasn’t sure how she
managed to think clearly, to buy more time. Maybe it was from learning to
function under pressure, or perhaps it was because she didn’t want to leave
Emory behind. Either way, if she was going to die, she preferred it be
here—under her terms.

“No. If you delay our departure I’ll have no choice but to
pull the trigger.”

He tugged her arm, aiding her when she rose to her feet. Her
eyes flicked to Emory. Something deep inside her knew he wasn’t dead yet. She’d
know if he was. But that didn’t mean he didn’t need help. When she tried to
make a dash for him, Elijah placed the barrel of the gun against the back of
her head.

“I
will
kill you,” he warned.

She knew he would, and he’d do it with little or no remorse.
In his eyes she had fallen. There was no redemption. Once a person accepted a
shifter into their life, or worse, their bed, they were beyond salvation.
Burying her with a prayer was Elijah’s sick way of showing the family he was
doing the right thing, even if it meant killing one of his own.

Standing straight, she kept her voice even, determined not
to break down or appear weak. “You’re going to want the map before you go. If
they keep it, you’re fucked.”

She stumbled when he slapped the back of her head, sending
her hair across her face, forcing her to step forward or fall. “You will show
me proper respect. Don’t think because you’ve slept with the spawn from Hell
you weren’t taught better. Now move.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she walked past Emory.
Leaving him was more than an emotional pain, it also seared through her
physically. Everything inside her screamed to turn around, to protect the male
who’d stood between her and a gun. There was only thing to do, one way to slow
Elijah down. Nathan had called out for them, so maybe he’d contacted the pack
and told them what to expect.

Buy more time.

“The map has to be downstairs,” she said and exited the
bedroom. “They have all your addresses. You’re not safe.”

“What are you talking about?” Elijah guided her toward a set
of stairs, nudging her to go faster with the gun that was now pressed against
her lower back.

“Mom and Dad left it for me,” she whispered, staring in
horror at Nathan’s body resting in the middle of the staircase. Below him two
men also rested, their chests covered in blood. Both of them were dead but one
had died with his eyes open—his gaze directed at Nathan—with a gun in his hand.

“Bless them, Father,” Elijah murmured. She felt the gun jab
into her spine. “You have thirty seconds to do as I say. No more, no less. Walk
down the stairs and take a right. We’re leaving.”

Thirty seconds? Her uncle started whispering the 23rd Psalm,
sending his comrades to the other side with his best wishes.

Better talk fast then.

“Mom and Dad gave me a map of all the Shepherd compounds in
the United States. Including yours,” she said quickly. “Emory took it after I
arrived.”

He stopped mid-prayer, narrowing his eyes, shadowed jaw
clenching in anger. “You’re lying.”

“What purpose would that serve?” She posed the question
cautiously, trying to appear meek. “You’re already here. I’m going to die.
Lying isn’t going to help.”

“You could be trying to delay your death,” he said flatly.

Shit
. “Or I could be saving the lives of innocent
people, including children.” She held her breath, waiting to see if he’d
believe what she said.

“Take me to it.” Again he butted the gun against her back.
“You’ve bought yourself a minute.”

Telling him that she didn’t know where the map was wouldn’t
work. There was an edge to his voice now—impatience and worry. He had to know
the pack would return and he couldn’t remain in Diskant’s home for long. Her
stomach churned at the thought. That was what had happened to Ava. Elijah had
to be responsible.

What had he done to her?

Swallowing several times to combat the lemony taste of bile
in her throat, she walked to the left. She didn’t know where she was going but
the best place to start was anywhere aside from where Elijah wanted to take
her. Exits were dangerous, so that meant the kitchen she’d visited was off
limits. She passed the large room, acting as if she knew where she was going,
when she saw another room to the right. The lighting was dark and she could see
several chairs in front of what looked like a desk.

An office? Please God, let it be an office.
It would
take more than a minute to sort through drawers and papers. If she could just
hold on, keep her uncle distracted…

“Your time is almost up. Get the map.” She realized he wasn’t
going to follow her into the room when she stepped inside and the feel of the
gun against her back vanished. Then he started counting back. “Thirty,
twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven…”

All she had left was an act, to pretend she knew what she was
looking for. She raced to one of the cabinets against the wall and started
sorting through files, all the while listening while he counted. When he hit
twenty, her heart throbbed. When he hit ten she thought she might faint. Paper
after paper slipped through her numb, worthless fingers. This was it. She was
going to die. At least she’d had the chance to meet Emory, to know what it felt
like to be loved.

Shock had her lifting her head. Outside the house, horrific
growls and snarls started up, as though a pit bull was in the middle of a fight
for its life. Within seconds she heard men shouting. A statue on the top of the
cabinet caught her attention, the large glass form of a wolf the perfect size
for her hand. She went for it, ready to take her final stand.

“Rest in peace,” Elijah said softly. “God save your soul.”

She spun around with the statue in hand, lifting her arm in
the same motion, and cried out when something hit her left shoulder. She met
Elijah’s eyes and threw the object at him, unable to do anything more. He’d
pointed the gun at her head when Mary heard a low, threatening growl and saw a
dark blur behind him. She sank to the floor—using the cabinet for balance—and
watched as Oscar attacked Elijah. The dog jumped onto his back and latched on to
the back of his neck with his large jaws. Her uncle screamed as he slammed to
his knees. Oscar growled, yanking his head from side to side. Blood streamed
from the wounds the raging canine created, splattering on the ground when
Elijah toppled to the floor.

It sounded as if a door was smashed in the distance. Mary
held her breath, trying to listen past the vicious growls. Heavy footsteps
approached and she heard someone curse. The dog let go of its prey, looked to
the side and snarled at someone Mary couldn’t see. This time, there was no
poof. The gunshot was loud, resounding in the house. Oscar yelped when he was
hit in the chest, knocking him back. Then she heard the poor creature whining
miserably, a horrible high-pitched sound.

Not Oscar. No. No. No.

Snap out of it. Someone has a gun. Run.

She knew she left a trail of blood when she crawled behind
the desk but she didn’t care. If whoever had shot the dog wanted her, she
wasn’t going to make it easy for them. They’d have to find her. She moved the
chair and hid under the large structure, trying not to cry or make any noise.
Covering her mouth with her hand, she waited, the seconds ticking by
agonizingly slow.

“Dear Lord,” someone muttered and stopped close by. “He’s
hurt bad. Put your jacket around his neck. We have to stop the bleeding.”

“We have to get him out of here,” another man said. “There
isn’t much time.”

“What about the girl?” The voice sounded strained, as if the
man was lifting something.

A grunt, then the other man answered, “A matter best left for
another day.”

Shuffling sounds followed, then silence. Aside from the
snarling taking place outside the house, Mary didn’t know what was going on.
She desperately wanted to go to Emory to see if he’d survived, but she was
frozen in place. When she heard a loud ticking sound accompanied by an
infuriated snarl she bowed over her knees and rested her forehead on her hands,
rocking back and forth. Panic made her nauseous, the familiar waves rolling
through her.

What if the shifters decided she wasn’t worth it? What if
Diskant and Emory couldn’t protect her as they’d promised? Would the pack kill
her quickly? Or would they make her suffer for the loss of their own?

The noise came closer, then closer. When the office door
slammed closed she jumped. Her pulse pounded in her ears so loudly she couldn’t
hear anything else. Then she felt something staring at her. All she could do
was wait, doomed to meet her end in whatever form it came. She knew she should
have fled. Everything she touched was toxic, poisoned by her presence.

The low whine was unexpected, as was the warm swipe of a
tongue against her arm. She cringed at first, too afraid to look, when she felt
she felt the same sensation—this time over her knuckles. She carefully lifted
her head, gazing past her knees. Her breath caught when she met a pair of
glowing amber-colored eyes—eyes she knew only too well. He was huge like this,
far larger than Oscar or any other dog in his wolf form. Her attention flew to
his chest, where she knew bullets had struck. The wounds were still there,
blood oozing from the holes.

“Emory?”

He whined again, inching closer, and she had her answer.

The tears she’d kept at bay crashed through her defenses,
making her vision blur and her eyes burn. She reached for him, recognizing him
on levels she didn’t fully understand. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she
pressed her face against his neck. She wasn’t going to ask how he’d survived,
grateful for a second chance. As though he felt her anguish, he moved his head
slightly, the warmth of his breath grazing her ear.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded when he moved from her embrace,
breaking free of her arms. Fear and built-up tension combined, making her
lightheaded. “Please, don’t go.”

His response was a swift nuzzle of her cheek, his nose
chilly against her skin. He didn’t go far, stopping a couple feet away and
lowering his head. There was nothing amazing about witnessing him change forms.
In fact, it looked painful. His bones changed shape as fur receded, revealing
the tanned flesh she’d been so eager to touch minutes before. He seemed to
shrink and expand in certain places, his whine changing to a groan.