Jodi_ByTheLight (2 page)

“It’s time to present you to your lovers, of course. All forty-five of them.”

***

Damon tore down the dirt road on his Harley, kicking up a wave of dust in his wake. According to the surveillance coordinates, he should be quickly approaching the destination where Ava was being held.

He white-knuckled the handlebars.
Ava.
He hadn’t wanted to bring his Harley to make the rescue. He wasn’t sure what condition Ava might be in when he found her. Though the bike had a slender second seat, his Harley-Davidson Breakout was more suited for one person than two. But showing up in his Hummer would have definitely blown his cover as a Rogue wolf. Rogues didn’t make the kind of money Guardians did and he didn’t need to stand out. He needed to blend in.

Rounding the curve, he slowed his bike and headed off the road into a field and drove toward the tree line. He killed the engine and eased off the motorcycle. He stilled, listening for any sign that he had been followed.

The cadence of an occasional barn owl and the rustle of dead leaves filled the night and assured him he was alone.

Within ten minutes of hanging up with Barrett, a messenger had met Damon with a package containing a pair of Ava’s pajamas. He needed something with her scent in the event he couldn’t locate her visually. He reached into the leather saddlebag and pulled out her pink pajama bottoms. The soft material slid through his fingers like silk as he lifted it to his nose. Her sweet feminine scent hit him right in the gut, sending his body careening and making his cock harden.

He shook his head, shaking off the daze she’d put him in by scent alone, and forced his mind onto the objective of his mission.

He lifted his face to the sky and sniffed. The scent of decaying leaves and crisp October air mingled in his nose.

A jolt shot through his body as he caught another scent settling upon the wind.

Ava.

Her scent, like honeysuckle baked in the hot July sun, was unique and like nothing he’d ever experienced. His squeezed his eyes shut and forced his body under control. He was on a mission. Now was not the time to fantasize.

From the aerial map he’d gotten from Intel, the compound where they suspected she was being held was located another two miles within the depths of the forest. If he could smell her from that distance, she must be putting off some major fear pheromones.

His pulse sped up as he bared his sharp teeth. Every vile image of what they might be doing to her invaded his mind. He curled his fingers into fists, clenched his muscles, and forced his wolf side under control.
First things first. Must find Ava.
Her safety was his priority.

He walked his Harley underneath a nearby oak tree and flipped the kickstand with his boot. Reaching inside the saddlebag, he pulled out a bottle of camouflage scent. He covered his entire body with the masking spray, concealing any odors he might have picked up from being near his pack.

The plan was simple. Get in, find Ava, and get the hell out before they both ended up dead.

He hit his red and black bandana with a couple sprays before retying it to his head and then slipped on his Oakleys. Despite the darkness, wolves had excellent eyesight and the sunglasses didn’t impede his vision in any way.

Damon snapped off branches and laid them around the chrome of his Harley. The last thing he needed was some redneck asshole out in the middle of a bean field trying to get laid and running upon his motorcycle.

The camouflage scent would only last about an hour before it wore off. He needed to get in, find Ava and get out before that happened. He set the timer on his Luminox watch, patted himself down in a last minute weapons check, then launched into a dead run.

Ava’s scent guided him like a ghostly finger, leading him deeper into the thick woods. His feet slammed into the cold, dead ground as he sprinted, dodging low-lying branches. The forest was quiet except for a startled raccoon that snarled and jumped out of his path as he raced through the trees.

He approached an illuminated break in the trees and slowed. Keeping his body hidden within the forest, he surveyed the open grounds.

Several werewolves in human form congregated around five small campfires. Old school Kid Rock blared from an old truck’s radio, breaking the solitude of the night.

He squinted at the wolves as he caught a whiff of their scent.

What the fuck? They were not just any wolves. They were red wolves.

How was that possible? Red wolves had been extinct in Arkansas for years. They had become so savage that they’d managed to kill each other off in their bloody rages. Gray wolves, were the only wolves left in Arkansas.

A shout echoed through the camp. Damon dropped to a crouch and palmed the cool steel of his .45. He steadied his breath and waited for the attack. When no one rushed him, he stole a glance at the camp.

Two red werewolves shoved each other as they argued over the choice of music. Apparently, not all of them were Kid Rock fans. The rest of the group drew closer, shit talking and urging on the fight. One wolf shoved the other and then fists were flying.

“Fucking bunch of idiots.”

With everyone’s attention on the fight, no one was watching the perimeter.

He eased away from the tree line and stepped into the camp, attempting to blend into the group. His stomach clenched as their overwhelming scent grew stronger.

He hated having people touch him. What he hated and what he needed to do were two different things. He knew their repulsive odor would mask his own. Passing the wolves, he rubbed his shoulder against members of the motley group.

Blood lust vibrated in his veins. Visions of his past rose up behind his eyes, almost blinding him with rage. It was all he could do not to rip their throats out for being so close.

He stepped away from the group and made his way to a pull-behind camper. Kneeling, he pretended to tighten the laces on his riding boots while he slipped an explosive to the underside of the camper.

Damon stood and grabbed a beer from the nearest cooler. He leaned against a rusted white truck and took a long drink from the icy bottle. Watching the fighting, he tucked his fingers under the hood and secured the second explosive.

He tossed the beer and looked around. He needed to find Ava and get out.

Making his way further into the camp, he spotted a large warehouse. Two werewolves stood on either side of the rusted door, shooting glares at anyone who ventured too close.

He raised his Oakleys, made eye contact with one of the large guards, nodded and then turned his back.

“Hey, you,” the large guard yelled.

Damon smirked. He tensed and waited for the guard to make a move. One thing a wolf didn’t tolerate was the disrespect of another wolf turning his backs to him.

“Hey, asshole, I know you heard me!”

Anger boiled low in his stomach. He wanted nothing better than to jump the guard right there.
Get Ava out first.
He swallowed his rage and held his ground.

“Hey, you fucker!”

Okay, the fucker part got him.

Damon turned.

The guard deserted his post and now stood several feet in front of him. His greasy brown mullet hung over his thick shoulders, reminding Damon of the movie,
Joe Dirt
. Dressed in jeans and a dirty white wife beater, the guard snarled.

Damon slipped his sunglasses up on his head, looked the guy in the eye, and gave him the finger.

The second guard roared with laughter. “I don’t think he likes you too much, Bubba.”

Anger flashed through Bubba’s eyes. He bowed up and threw a punch. Damon dodged the blow and grabbed Bubba’s arm and twisted. The guard cried out in pain. He planted his boot on Bubba’s back and pushed. Bubba landed with a thick plop in a mud puddle.

“What the hell’s going on?” A white male in his late forties came trotting out of the warehouse hoisting a shotgun over his shoulder. His gray hair was styled in a high-and-tight military cut and his weathered face had more mileage on it than an eighteen-wheeler. He stopped short when he spotted his guard lying on the ground. “Bubba, what the fuck you doing in the mud?”

“He’s in the mud because that’s where I put him.” Damon cocked his head and met the old man’s stare.

The second guard broke into another howl of belly-splitting laugher.

The older man drew his disgusted gaze from Bubba up to Damon. He leveled his shotgun at Damon’s forehead. “Who the hell are you?”

“Demon.” Damon knew better to give his actual name. He was also smart enough to keep it close to his real name in case someone called out to him.

“What the hell kind of name is Demon?”

“What the hell kind of name is Bubba?” Damon held the older wolf’s gaze, refusing to look away.

The guy’s eyes widened for a second before he barked out a laugh.

“What the hell you laughing at, Carl?” Bubba scrambled to his feet. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing the mud and making an even bigger mess. “He don’t belong here.” He pointed a thick finger at Damon.

“Shut up, Bubba. You’re not running things here. I am.” Carl continued to glare at Damon. “What Pack are you in?”

“I don’t belong to a Pack.”

Carl lifted a bushy gray eyebrow. “No Pack? That means you’re lying or you’ve gone rogue.”

“The last wolf that called me a liar is wearing his dick for a tie,” Damon growled. “Like I said, I don’t have a Pack.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?”

“I was passing through and caught the scent of blood. I didn’t realize you were having a private party.” He nodded toward the fight in the middle of the camp, but didn’t break his gaze.

Carl’s thin lips twitched like a rodent’s. He lowered his gun. “It’s not every day a wolf admits to looking for a fight. These days Packs are trying to be more tolerant, more politically correct.” Carl spit a thick stream of tobacco juice on the ground. A slimy drop trailed down his chin. “Bunch of pussies, if you ask me.”

“Fuck that. Wolves are animals,” Damon snarled.

Carl’s weathered face relaxed, as his lips broke into a smile. “Seems like we’re of the same thinking, boy.”

“Don’t call me ‘boy.’”

Carl laughed. “All right, all right. I can respect that. It seems like you got more balls than some of these dickheads I’m rolling with.” He cut his eyes at Bubba who lowered his gaze.

“Are you looking to join up to a Pack?” Carl lifted his chin. “We could use someone like you.”

“I don’t play well with others.”

“I like that. But I bet I could change your mind.” Carl smirked and rested the shotgun against his shoulder.

“I doubt that.” Damon crossed his arms over his chest. No need to appear too eager.

“Once you see what we got in this here warehouse, you’ll be begging to join our Pack.” Carl snorted.

“Carl, you said I could have her.” Bubba pressed his muddy lips together like an impudent child.

“She ain’t ready yet, dumbass. Keep up your whining and I’ll castrate you. Then you won’t be getting any at all!”

Bubba went wide-eyed and then bent his head in a submissive gesture.

Damon snorted. What do you know? Bubba might actually have some brains after all.

His gaze drifted casually to the warehouse. Ava’s scent was overwhelming. She was there. His stomach tightened to the point of pain.

“You got a female, so what? It’s only October. Females don’t go into heat until spring.”

Carl leaned in close. A smirk lurked at the corner of his thin lips. “Well, we got us a special formula that will force her into heat.”

He uncrossed his arms. “That’s impossible.”

Females were only in heat for a few weeks in February and March. This was only October.

Carl grinned. “Our formula will shorten the pregnancy and allow her to stay in heat so she can have multiple pregnancies within a year.”

Damon swallowed back the nausea rising in the back of his throat. Females were only fertile every two years. Even having twins was rare. What Carl was suggesting was beyond evil.

“I guess her mate is going to keep her busy. Is this lucky couple going to start their own pack with all those offspring?” He clenched every muscle in his body to keep from beating Carl’s ass right there.

Carl narrowed his gaze. “She’s not mated and she’s not going to be. She’s what you’d call community property.”

Ava would be enslaved and raped. Judging from the wolves Damon had seen, not one of them would think twice about violating her. She wouldn’t last two days before they killed her in their lust.

“I don’t like sloppy seconds.”

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see her. She’s one hot little piece of tail.” Carl whistled through his tobacco-stained teeth.

Damon nodded, not trusting his voice. Rage edged through every corner of his body.

“Round everyone up,” Carl barked at Bubba. “It’s time for the unveiling.”

The only thing that separated him from Ava was a wall of rusted tin. With one hit he could tear through the tin walls of the warehouse and reach her.