Silence of the Wolves (2 page)

She looked mighty fine in those skintight jeans she had on, her heavy woollen jumper billowing around her tiny waist. He’d been watching her for a few weeks now, just watching and waiting. Up until now, she’d had no idea he was near most of the time, and though she had no idea who he was, he knew her intimately. He knew everything about her, right down to how she liked her coffee.

Leyth had to stop himself from snorting. Christ, he sounded like a stalker. Hell, he basically was doing exactly that. Even so, as he watched her walk, her heavy jumper swaying with her hips, his memories of her tears, her sadness at night when she thought she was alone in her flat, hit him hard in the gut, sparking an instantaneous reaction. What the hell was that? Sympathy? No. Concern? Maybe.

Whatever it was, it was a first; he’d never given a damn about anyone before and, gut reaction or not, that was never going to change.

Nevertheless, in a strange, desperate moment of compassion, all he wanted to do was help her in some way; to comfort her perhaps. He actually reached out, his hand getting close enough to that silky black hair to stroke it. Before he knew what he was doing, she stopped him in his tracks as she whipped her head round, eyes searching the shadows with cold determination. Crap, he’d almost blown it.

He slowly slid his nearly invisible form back against the wall, deeper into the shadows, and held his breath as he watched her scan the area again.

Sure as hell, she knew someone was there, knew he was watching her. She crouched down and checked underneath the cars, behind the trees, and through the windows of surrounding houses before, slowly, jogging towards her building. Christ, that was close.

‘
Get off me
!’ Leyth’s keen hearing picked the sound with ease, though it was coming from almost a mile away. In a past life he might have gone to investigate; it was clearly a ‘damsel in distress’ and the alpha inside him bringing the other half of his soul roaring to the surface. But these days, that half was suppressed by the will of the council, constrained by duties and laws. Besides, he had other things to deal with.

Glancing at Tamriel, he noted that her pace had slowed almost to a stop and she was listening closely. As she broke into a sprint, he realised that she’d also heard the female in distress, and was going to her aid. Running flat-out to keep up with her, he followed her through the streets of Folkestone, baffled by how keen her senses were, marvelling at how accurately she followed her ears.

Finally, they reached a quiet road, off which there was an alleyway that led behind a large block of flats. The metallic scent of blood rode the air, stirring the beast at his core. Blood lust roared its way to the surface, making his mouth water. He thrust it back down, telling his instincts to put a muzzle on it. Now was
not
the time!

He watched as Tam crept through the alleyway, slowly reaching the walled entrance to the small square of space between the two buildings. She paused, again listening intently.

Crap, where did she get that knife from?

His confusion took a back seat as she launched herself from the space she was crouched in, landing a kick on the man who was stood in the shadows of the buildings surrounding them. The force of it sent him smashing into a wall, cracking his leg as he went; Leyth heard the bone fracture as it hit the brick. Glancing over at the guy, he noted the faint scent of death that prickled his nose. It was a tuhrned
.

Cursing himself for not noticing the Circle’s minion, and his bad luck for the situation he’d landed in, Leyth shifted position, ready to kick the crap out of the zombiefied traitor but, as he did, Tamriel caught his attention.

Fragile as she seemed, she was a picture of strength, ready for combat. As the guy launched at her, she dodged his blows with grace, only getting hit a couple of times and, when the tide turned, she attacked with deadly precision, catching him in all the right places. She definitely had her father’s blood in her veins.

Finishing him off with an elbow to the back of the neck, the pale bastard fell to the floor in a heap. He wouldn’t stay that way though, tombs just didn’t stop; their corpse-like bodies could keep on going even after death.

Pulling himself back to reality, Leyth considered doing Tamriel a favour and cutting the tomb’s head off, but since she had handled things well so far, Leyth decided to leave her to it; to see if she could look after herself alone.

Best to stand back and see how this played out anyway. Maker only knew, he didn’t want her to find out he’d been following her. Yet.

Praying her senses were still on alert, he watched her pull out her phone and call someone; he stepped back as the tomb got to its feet. The bastard didn’t even give her time to breathe as it kicked the phone from her hand and slammed her against the wall, crushing her throat. It was going to kill her.

Moving swiftly forward, he was careful to stay in the shadows behind the tuhrned, keeping out of its line of sight, they would know he was there otherwise. He pulled on the bomber jacket the tomb was wearing, tugging it just hard enough for its grip to loosen, to give her a chance to grab at some air.

She lashed out with her foot, cracking the tomb twice in the knee until bone cracked and shattered, sending the thing down to the ground.

Leyth couldn’t help but grin;
this
female. She was as strong as her father had been; she was truly a picture of strength, through and through. And didn’t that just make it all the harder to do what he had to do?

Goddamn, he had to take her. He had no choice but to snatch her out of the life she’d made for herself and turn it upside down. He was going to ruin her world and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

Then he felt his stomach drop as he watched Tamriel collapse to the floor in a heap. Pulling his bolo out of his leg sheath, Leyth didn’t cast a second glance at the tuhrned, just swung the knife and cut its head clean off.

As the tomb hit the dirt, Leyth touched the radio he wore clipped to his jacket.

‘I need a clean-up team in the alley behind the Marlowe flats on the Leas,’ he barked. ‘One dead tuhrned and one injured.
Get here ASAP
.’

‘Roger that, ETA two minutes.’ Carl’s gruff voice came back at him.

For once, Leyth was glad to hear that raspy American baritone.

‘Cool, I’ve got to shoot, my man. Got something to deal with.’ Leyth quickly checked the pulse of the blonde pup; slow but steady, she would be fine.

Hauling the now-unconscious Tamriel over his shoulder, he cursed. The heat bleeding out of her pores was burning his skin as it made contact with hers.

Leyth called to the other half of his soul, the power at his very core, which happily came roaring to the surface, filling his veins with adrenaline and making his heart race. He would need the speed of the wild to get her back to mansion’s clinic in time.

He raced back to his car, fear giving his feet wings, and sped the ten miles to the reserve in almost as many minutes. This female could
not
die on him.

Not now. Not ever.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Jesus Christ, what the hell was that noise? Tamriel flinched, dragging her hands up to cover her ears. Her skin felt raw, burnt almost, and her muscles screamed in protest. Her bones seemed to bend and creak in her skin as they moved. She gritted her teeth against the pain and tried to pull herself together. Argh, that beeping was deafening.

Trying desperately to get a sense of where she was, Tam strained her ears, picking past the harsh mechanical beep, reaching for the sounds that lay beneath it. She could hear the hum of air-conditioning though, Lord only, they must have it on low; she felt like she was on fire, the heat scalding her skin even now. There was a buzz of electricity in the corner, and the pitter-patter of fingers on a keypad; someone must be typing on a computer. Other than that, the room she was in was completely silent.

Tamriel inhaled deeply, trying to keep the movement of her chest expanding to a minimum; she didn’t feel scared and the room didn’t feel hostile but, hell, if she’d been kidnapped or something, she’d have to work out where she was or at least give herself a vague understanding of the situation she’d landed in before she alerted anyone to the fact that she was awake.

Picking through the scents of the room, she found she was in a sort of medical room, she had to be. It smelt sterile, the metallic twang of stainless steel hit her senses like a slap and the sharp aroma of antibacterial fluid wrapped around her, making her stifle a gag. Shoving the more pungent scents aside, she kept digging until she found what she was looking for. Men. There were two very male scents lingering in the air, one was very spicy, Moroccan almost? And the other… was just delicious, a chestnutty muskiness filled her olfactory senses, overwhelming her, easing her bruised and battered body, forcing her to relax.

Carefully opening an eyelid, she cursed internally as bright lights hit her. The damn things were blinding, making her wince. Her eyes felt sore and crusty, as if she’d been asleep for days. She breathed through the pain shooting through her body as her muscles tensed, and she braced herself for another shot at getting a visual on her location. Slowly, carefully, she cracked open an eyelid once more. The brightness scorched her retinas, but she forced herself through the pain of it; all she could see, however, was blinding whiteness, her blurry sight giving her nothing but erratic shapes that she couldn’t even attempt to decipher. Coughing, she cleared her throat, trying to talk to the people in the room was her last option; at the very least, she might be able to get them to tell her what had happened. Maybe she was in a hospital? And this caution was just her instinctive reaction?

‘H-ell-oo?’ she rasped through dry lips. Her throat felt like it had been torn to bits. Daaaammnn. Pain washed over her like a blanket of pins, heat ripping through her as surely as if she were on fire.

‘Shh. Careful now,’ came a deep, accented voice.

The man that smelt of spices got up from his seat in the corner and moved swiftly over to her, a movement she felt rather than saw.

‘Shh, try to drink,’ he said in soothing tones. Tam tried a pull at the straw that was pushed gently between her lips, but it was too much, her stomach groaned at the small offering, threatening to evict anything that was left in it.

With a moan that sounded pathetic even to her own ears, Tam tried to push the cup away. As the accented man retreated, a deep rumble filled the room, ricocheting across the walls. Was it a growl?

It was coming from the far corner of the room, the space that the delicious chesnutty scent was coming from. Though it hurt her ears, the sound was strangely comforting. She felt so vulnerable, so lost and confused, and whatever was making the slow, deep rumble was protecting her. She was sure of it.

As blinding heat washed over her in a steady wave, her muscles tensing and her bones feeling as if they were cracking under the pressure, she slowly welcomed the pain because with it came the sweet darkness, the unconsciousness that washed away the confusion and took away the pain. Blacking out, she felt herself smile. Though Lord only knew why.

‘Hey there. How are you feeling?’ Tam woke again several hours later to the sound of the deep, rumbling voice and heavy hands stroking her hair.

‘Wh—’ She tried to speak, but it came out hoarse.

‘Shh, drink,’ he whispered.

She wished people would stop telling her to ‘shh’, though she took a pull on the straw that came to her lips nonetheless. The cool liquid washed through her, making her feel better by the second.

‘I tried to contact your father but he’s MIA at the moment.’

‘Father’s dead,’ she croaked, confusion flooding her.

‘Never mind about that now. Try and get some sleep.’

Tam tried to open her eyes; she wanted to see where she was, to understand what was happening, but those awful bright lights made her wince. Snapping her lids shut, she cursed internally. Why couldn’t someone just turn them down?

The metallic, medical scent of the room washed over her, but this aroma was quickly chased away by the dark, chesnutty masculine scent of the man standing next to her. He slowly ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her. He couldn’t be a doctor; that would be highly unprofessional if he was, but who else? She didn’t recognise his scent or his deep, rumbling voice.

She tried to sit up, but Christ did she ache. Her skin felt raw and exposed; she felt as though she’d been burnt alive, and she had to hold her breath against the pain. Her vision was shot to hell, it was so blurry she could barely make out the sight of her own palm, though she got the impression of a huge man with kind-looking eyes and black hair looming over her. As pain washed over her, making her giddy, lightheaded and more than a little sick, she clamped her lids back down, reaching for the darkness, the unconsciousness that could take away the pain and confusion.

She held onto the image of her dark-haired man, desperately clinging to his blurred, handsome features. She liked him, she decided. He was nice. Though that might just be the medicine they had her on talking. Crippling heat engulfed her, taking her into the blackness once more.

When Tamriel finally passed out for the second time, Leyth heaved a sigh of relief. She was in so much pain, writhing on the gurney, tears streaming down her face. Every time she cried out in pain it scared the hell out of him. The thought of her in pain was hard, the thought of her dying? God-awful. Those fears were brought on by the blatant knowledge that whatever happened to her was on him. It was his goddamn fault and he cursed himself for letting her fight the infection alone, unprepared and afraid. God he was such an idiot.

She was strong though, so damn strong. Even in the state she was in, being practically burnt alive by the fever, her body physically tearing itself apart, she was still battling with the pain, trying to find out what was happening to her, though he could clearly see she was in agony and, hell, did that make him respect the crap out of her.

‘I
will
look after you,’ he whispered, absently stroking her hair. The beautiful strands were damp with sweat; her whole body beaded with it. Her skin still felt like a furnace against his fingers. Though she was now lying limp and her breathing was steady, he knew the war her body was fighting; knew the pain and the stress it was going through.

He bent down to kiss her forehead as sympathy for what she was going through overwhelmed him, lingering slightly as his lips met her skin. Though the heat of her scalded his lips he couldn’t help but notice the rush of heat that roared through him as he touched her, the feel of her against him, the scent of her filling his nostrils; it forced a primal urge at the very core of him to come rushing to the surface without so much as a whisper of hesitation.

She was just… beautiful. Even in this state. Leyth barked out an abrupt curse, where the hell was this soppy crap coming from?

Sliding down to the cold, tiled floor, he leant against the gurney and wondered what on earth he was going to do.

‘What in the hell?’ Julian snapped as Leyth stormed his way into his office. He narrowed luminous blue eyes, his blonde hair was tied back in a long plait falling down his back, out of the way, and he was wearing his fighting gear. He was supposed to be out patrolling with the others tonight, but Sod’s law would have him home just as Leyth got back with Tamriel, unannounced and without permission.

‘Julian, I
don’t
have time for this.’ Leyth spat, marching towards the heavy desk that all but dominated the large room.

‘Hell yeah, you do!’ Julian growled, blocking Leyth with his huge, muscular figure. ‘I am your leader and my word goes. And it’s my house you’re marching into.’

Out of habit more than respect at this point, Leyth dipped his head down in a half bow to his leader. Unfortunately, Julian’s rule came before any other responsibilities, and being that this merry band of fighters was ruled by the Council, you were pretty buggered if you didn’t abide by its laws.

‘Sorry, she’s going through her fever early. She’s not ready yet. I needed to get her to Doc.’

‘Who is she?’ Julian demanded.

‘She’s John’s kid.’

‘Shit.’ Julian ducked his head down, rubbing a hand across his eyes. ‘How is she?’

‘Not good. The infection is still strong, it could kill her.’

‘She’s a strong female, Leyth; she’s John’s blood. She will be fine.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Christ, you need to shower,’ Julian exclaimed as Leyth came to sit in the leather chair opposite his leader. ‘And eat, you look like hell.’

‘Yeah, maybe when she’s come through the other side.’

‘No, man, you need to do it like, now. Go and get some sleep, Leyth. That’s an order. Doc’s there to look after her.’

Leyth threw him a look; there was absolutely no way he was leaving that female in the hands of another male. Not to eat, not to sleep. This five minutes away from her was pretty much all he could take, and even now he was twitching with the need to go back to her… and do what? What was this desperate fury at the thought of leaving her about?

Hell, he just had a job to do. Nothing more, nothing less.

He
needed
to remember that.

‘Goddamn it, Leyth,’ Julian snapped, rubbing his eyes. ‘If you’re really intent on killing yourself, then at least have a shower. There’s one in the medical room she’s in so you can still keep an eye on her.’

‘Fine.’

‘Fine.’

Well, this situation had just gotten mighty awkward.

‘What are you going to do with her once the infection is gone?’

‘I have no idea. I honestly don’t know.’

‘Well, can I build her a house on the reserve? And she can stay in a guest room in the meantime.’ Julian started to talk.

‘No,’ Leyth cut him off. ‘We can’t register her with the Council—’

‘Leyth, you know I have to register everyone who goes through the fever that we find or oversee. It’s Council law.’

‘Julian, you know what they’ll do to her.’

‘Well, I can make it bearable, and she can stay with us.’

‘What, and make her feel like an outcast like Sarah? Or better yet, turn her into a slave?’

‘Well, no—’ Julian cursed, long and hard. ‘What do you suggest then?’

‘I really don’t know, I think we need to take her back to her own home so she can live out her life in the normal world, the less the Council know of her the better.’

There was a long pause. ‘OK, so be it. Let me know when you’re sending her home.’

‘Sure thing. Hey, did Alison get to your parents OK?’

‘I guess so, I’ve not had any “where is she?” calls, so I figure she has to be there.’ Julian laughed. ‘Are you going back in the field when Tamriel’s through the change?’

‘Yeah, I guess so.’ Leyth sighed. The thought of life without her seemed so empty.

‘Good, Carl needs to talk to you about that last clean-up you called in.’

‘Can I talk to him about it when I’ve had more sleep?’ Leyth grumbled, he didn’t need any more on his plate right now. He’d killed the tuhrned, and that’s what mattered right?

Julian’s phone chose that moment to ring, and Leyth was grateful for the distraction.

‘Yup, what? Crap, Yeah, I’ll tell him.’ Julian barked, slamming the phone down.

‘Tamriel’s fever is in full swing, you need to go and help Doc.’

Leyth didn’t even spare a second glance at his leader, just hightailed it out of the office and through the body of the mansion to the clinic.

Hammering his way through the door, he skidded to a halt by Tamriel’s bed.

She was writhing around on the gurney, heaving in huge gulps of air, her face was slick with tears and the whimpers that escaped her every now and again were enough to break his damn heart.

This was the hardest part of the fever; the infection was going to take over. He knew you just had to let it take over and hope for the best, but Tamriel had no idea what was happening to her and there was a strong chance that she would reject it and make her body fight against it rather than accept it. And it honestly could kill her.

Tamriel let out an almighty scream as her bones started to splinter and break, her skin stretching as every limb shattered. Leyth braced himself for the infection to spread, for her body to stop fighting and start healing… but it wasn’t happening, she wasn’t healing properly. Just breaking and staying broken.

‘Change, Tamriel, I need you to change,’ he whispered, stroking her hair, as Doc bustled past him, checking her vitals and injecting her with painkillers.

She let out an almighty groan and he could only stare as her beautiful black hair slowly began to change colour. The silky dark strands slowly became streaked with red, the colour washing its way down from root to tip until what was left was a myriad of ruby highlights shimmering through the black strands.

For hours, Leyth held her and willed her to get better, to heal from the infection, but her body wasn’t cooperating.

‘Please change, Tamriel, I need you to change, I—’ Tears? Holy shit!
His own tears
ran down his face as he soothed her, lightly kissing her forehead. ‘I will
not
let you die.
Please
change.’