TerrIIItory (10 page)

Chapter 18

Weston led the pack through the forest.  Because Bethany was unable to shift, it was easy to follow her scent trail.  Funny, she smelled like Evander, which meant she was either wearing something of his, or their claiming was true.  Regardless, the Alpha believed she was his and wanted her back, so Weston would do Evander’s bidding.

The trek to the local store made sense; it was the closest place to the compound.  A few snarls to the geek behind the counter had him confessing that a woman matching Bethany’s description had been in earlier asking about the nearest motel.  He’d given her directions to both
Georgetown and Silverthorne.  After a menacing growl, the boy admitted that he’d overheard her on the phone telling her friend to meet her in the western town of Silverthorne.

Eyeing his watch, and knowing Bethany couldn’t shift, Weston was hopeful that they could catch her before she even reached town.  “Let’s go!”  As the pack exited the store, Clay climbed into the black Dodge and queried, “You guys riding?”

“No.” Weston shook his head.  “We’ll pick up her scent and follow it.  I don’t wanna take chances.”  Weston, Mateo, and Lincoln hurried to the tree line, and as they went, Weston contacted Evander through their pack ties to let him know he knew where Bethany was heading.

***

To Weston’s disappointment, they hadn’t reached Bethany before she’d gotten to Silverthorne.  He admired her for it.  It wasn’t lost on him that Silverthorne had been a tactical choice over Georgetown, and she’d clearly been willing to suffer the longer walk just to throw them off.  She’d also shucked Evander’s jacket.  They’d followed the scent and found the article some two miles down, snagged on a rock in the riverbed.  She’d dropped it in the river and let the water carry it downstream; clearly hoping they’d follow the scent trail.  They had, and it’d cost them precious hours.

Now, Weston stood beside his truck in the parking lot eyeing the Silverthorne bus depot.  Too many cars littered the parking lot for him to take his pack in and just grab her.  It’d look bad.  So, he’d opted to send in Clay.  Bethany was most familiar with the pack medic, and he tended to be less abrasive than the other members of the pack.  He turned to smirk at Lincoln.  The shifter’s body was tense as his eyes stayed locked on the bus depot.  Clearly, he wanted Bethany quickly so he could get back to Raina.  Jealousy seized him, and he had to turn his head forward, lest Lincoln see the proof that Weston had hoped he’d be the next to claim a mate.

“You shoulda sent me,” Mateo piped up from behind Weston.  “She’d already be out here if I woulda gone in.”

Weston shook his head.  Mateo was impatient, and hadn’t the slightest clue how to be subtle.  Sure, Bethany would be with them now if he had sent Mat in, but half the town’s police force probably would be too.  With Mateo, there was never any preamble.  If something needed to be done, he’d do it in the quickest, most efficient manner possible, consequences be damned.

Short moments later, Clay came out of the small bus depot without Bethany.  When he approached Weston snarled, “Where is she?” His eyes searched behind Clay.

“She’s afraid to come out.”

“Did you tell her that Evander isn’t with us?  That we just wanna talk?”

Clay rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.  She thinks I’m lying.  She thinks it’s a trap.”

“Smart girl,” Mateo smirked, checking his reflection in the truck’s side mirror.

“Fuck!”  Weston shoved Clay aside.  “I’m going in.  Have the truck running.  This won’t be pretty.”

“Wait!”  Clay raced to grab Weston’s arm.  “She has someone with her.  A friend.”

“So?” Weston attempted to jerk out of Clay’s grip.

“She’s a wolf too, but…she’s mean.  She threatened to rip my nuts off if I touched Bethany.”  Clay’s gaze slid back to where the rest of the pack stood.  “You should take one of us with you.”

Weston snorted, a little insulted that Clay thought he’d need assistance subduing two females.  But then again…  “Mateo and Lincoln, you’re on me.  Clay, start the truck and be ready.”  Stalking toward the door with Mateo and Lincoln on his heels, he eyed the building.  “Lincoln, take the front entrance.  Mateo, you got the east door.  I’ll enter through the north.”

The three men split up and entered the bus depot.  There were a half-dozen people milling about, but his attention locked on Bethany, and on the angry woman with her who turned to scowl at Lincoln and Mateo as they approached.

Some warrior!
  Weston’s gaze raked over the small woman standing protectively in front of Bethany.  Her finger jabbed into Lincoln’s chest, and the poor man simply looked from her to Mateo for guidance as she growled demands.  The tiny fighter was actually shorter than Bethany and wearing a ridiculously delicate outfit.  A light, peach-colored dress ended mid-thigh.  It was cinched at her slight waist with a matching belt and appeared to be made of some wispy, silky material that reminded Weston of tissue paper.  The damn thing looked so soft and flimsy he wondered if it’d melt right off her body in a slight rain.  Thank God, the rain had stopped pouring down about an hour ago.

“Mateo,” he nodded to his pack mate as he approached.  Mateo understood the unspoken command and grabbed Bethany, hoisting her over his shoulder before stalking toward the door.

“PUT HER DOWN!”  Bethany’s friend growled, turning to reach for Mateo.

One of Weston’s hands gripped the woman’s arm before she could give chase.  Over her head, Weston nodded for Lincoln to follow the duo out.  “I’ll catch up.  Go!”

The little ball of fury still gripped in his hand spun and punched him in the face.  His head snapped to the side, even as a low, warning growl rumbled from between his lips.  He didn’t get the chance to admonish the woman though, as two men appeared from out of nowhere.  He recognized the intent in their eyes. 
Battle! 
Scenting the air, he realized they too were shifters, clearly part of Bethany’s friend’s pack.

Mateo was already out the door with Bethany and Lincoln.

Shit! 
Weston released the woman he held, just as a fist was thrown at his face.  He caught it and smiled at the shorter male before returning the punch with one of his own that actually connected, sending the younger shifter stumbling backward.  The third man took advantage and dove on Weston.  Screams rent the air, and all hell broke loose as people raced for the doors.

The two younger shifters capitalized on their numbers, but it didn’t take Weston long to have one bleeding and reeling the the ground while the other male shifted, thinking he’d be quicker. 
Fool!
  Jerking the sliver free from where he had it tucked in the waistband at his back, he noted the wolf eyeing it warily.  In his wolf form, he’d be able to sense the imminent threat of the object, the power it held.  The liquid silver curled and stirred in its barely contained shape.  It sensed an enemy near.

Seeming to realize the danger he was in, the wolf took a step back and Weston was lowering the weapon when he was suddenly attacked from behind.  Without thought, he plunged the sliver into the thigh of his assailant, but his satisfaction faded when he heard a feminine scream of agony.

He spun, ignoring Mateo’s sudden, giddy, “Looks like you could use some help.”  He sensed Lincoln as well, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman he’d held earlier as she writhed on the ground, trying—in vain—to extract the sliver from where he’d stabbed it into her thigh, leaving a long, deep gash that was bleeding profusely.  The sliver wasn’t like a regular blade.  Once plunged into an opponent, the blade detached and remained in his enemy, while Weston kept the wand fisted in his grip.

The whimpering female looked up, and Weston’s gaze collided with pain-filled, hazel eyes.

NO!

Instantly, he crashed to his knees.  The air whooshed out of his lungs and he curled his hands into tight fists as agony gripped him.  His claws extended and shot into the palms of his hands, drawing forth another agonized snarl. “AAAAAAAAAGH!”

Weston Ryan had just come face-to-face with his mate!

“
No!
  No, no, no, NO!”  The woman began crawling backward away from him, and he felt the urge to get up and give chase.  From the sound of her terror, she was well aware of what had just happened.  She knew what his reaction meant.  She knew she was his.

“AAAAAAAAAGH!”  Weston growled again, attempting to get to his feet as his mate struggled to hers and stumbled toward the front door of the building, leaving a trail of blood behind her.  Just beyond the glass, he saw her race to the parking lot where she shifted and limped into the woods.

“WESTON!”  Mateo roared behind him.

Turning, Weston saw that Mat was handling himself fine.  His bellow had been out of concern that Weston had been injured.

Staggering to his feet, he heard gasps.  Stumbling forward, several mothers jerked their children closer and men shielded their wives.  Ignoring the nearly empty bus station, his eyes locked on the slowly closing glass door that led out the front of the building.  Unable to control it, he gave in to the primal instincts that surged through him and crashed out the front door.  He stopped long enough to scent the air before he found what he was looking for.  Seconds later, he was racing into the woods, hot on the trail of his mate.

Chapter 19

Weston found the female huddled under a tree.  Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she was so engrossed in extracting the sliver from her leg that she didn’t notice his approach.  She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.  Hazel eyes perfectly matched the long, silken locks that surrounded her shoulders.  Full, petal-pink lips were parted to reveal even, white teeth set in a café au lait face.  She was exquisite.

“Don’t.” He kept his command gentle, knowing that she’d only make things worse with her attempts at removal.

Her head snapped in his direction and his heart clenched.

She froze.  The hand that held the stick she’d been using to try and pry the sliver free began to shake.  He wasn’t sure if it was from fear, adrenaline, or pain.

His eyes dipped to her bent leg, and guilt seized him at the sight of her wound.  Her skirt was hiked up to reveal a creamy thigh marred by a deep gash that was weeping crimson.  He hated himself for marring such perfection.  It had to hurt like hell, and worse, her beautifully delicate dress was now covered in blood.

When she tried to get up, his eyes shot to hers and he realized she was eyeing him warily.  Her arms trembled with the effort and she dropped back to the ground.  She was too weak to make a run for it.  It was how the sliver worked, slowly and painfully draining one’s power until immobilizing exhaustion set in.  Part of him was glad he wouldn’t have to chase her, but a bigger part of him was angry with himself for allowing her to be injured and for not doing anything to ease her suffering. 
Do something!

He held his hands up and took a tentative step toward her, speaking softly, the tone belying his underlying excitement at having finally found her.  “The sliver is designed to burrow deeper when removal is attempted.”

She used her arms to scoot herself away from him, and his wolf hated her reaction to him.  When she winced at the action and a feminine whimper escaped her lips, he forced his wolf back and swallowed down his urge to rush to her.  “It’s okay.  I won’t hurt you,” he promised soothingly.

“You already have!” she hurled back, pulling her upper lip back to flash fang and growl at his slow approach, attempting to scare him off.

“I-I’m sorry.”  God, had he ever said the words before?  They’d come so easy now because he meant them.  He
was
sorry she’d been hurt.  “You attacked.  I defended myself.”

“
You
attacked
my
pack,” she accused.  “We defended
ourselves
.”  He saw her eyes flick over his head to where the fight had taken place.  He knew what she was thinking.

“Your pack is unharmed.”  She looked at him, and he wanted to groan at the tears that flooded her eyes.  “If you permit me,” he reached down and pulled the sliver’s wand from where it rested at his back.  The action had the female’s breath hitching, and her eyes rounding in fear.  “It’s okay!” He rushed to explain, taking another step closer and holding the object up for her to view.  “It’s safe.”

“Stay away!”

He watched panic flare as her eyes darted around the clearing, searching for a way out.

“It’s to remove the sliver.  It’ll pull it out without doing any more harm.”  He took another step and saw dread replace the panic in her eyes.

“Easy, pretty girl.”  He slowly crouched to come eye level with her.  “I won’t…” he stopped and started again. “It’ll be okay.  I’m just going to place this over your leg, and it’ll draw out the sliver.  I promise, you’ll feel better once I get it out.”

“Why?”

Her question had him halting in his crawl toward her leg.  Confused, he met her eyes. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to take it out?  You put it there because you wanted to hurt me.  Why help me?  Why not leave it and let me suffer?”  She scooted further back from him.  “You’re trying to trick me!”

“You are not my enemy.” His words sounded shocked.  He finished more firmly. “And I am not yours.”  His wolf lunged to the surface at the declaration, reminding him that she was, in fact, his.  “I’d have never stabbed you with the damn thing if I’d known…”

“Known what?”

He mentally stumbled for a moment. 
Could she not know? 
Then he remembered her reaction to his affliction. 
She knows!
“I thought you were a male.  I’d never hurt a female.”

She chuffed a disbelieving sigh, but looked from him down to her thigh expectantly.  She clearly wanted the sliver out, and he could scent her pain.

Inching closer, he placed a hand on her knee and she jumped.  He recoiled just as quickly, having forgotten it was painful for a male to touch his mate until she recognized his claiming.  “Shhhhh.  Easy, pretty girl.”  He lifted the wand and pointed the tip at her injured thigh.  When he pressed it into the wound, he felt her tense.  “The tip extracts the sliver.  Please be still, I don’t want to hurt you.  It’ll only take a moment.”  He had to give her credit for not fighting him, even as he noted the tense lines of her frame.  “Why the beautiful dress?” he asked, in hopes of distracting her from his task and helping her to relax as the sliver began to retract into the wand.

Her eyes were transfixed by the sliver as it swirled and extracted from her thigh back into the wand.  She blinked and continued to watch, but answered his question.  “I-it’s my birthday.”

Christ!
  It couldn’t have been possible for him to feel like a bigger dick.

She hissed and drew his attention from her leg to her face.

“It’ll be over soon.” He massaged just above her knee, focusing on the satiny smoothness of her leg rather than the bolt of pain that tore through him at the contact.  “Just one more second.”  He looked down to watch as the wand drank the silver back in.  Finally, the light slithering sound halted and he pulled the wand back.  “All done.” He smiled, but quickly lost it when she tried to get to her feet.  “Whoa.” He grabbed her arms. “Easy.  The wound won’t heal as quickly as it should.  Let me.”  He crammed the sliver in the band of his pants and reached for her.

“No.  I can…”

He ignored her protests, carefully lifting her into the cradle of his arms.  It was like carrying a baby.  She was so light, so…
right
.  He felt proud to be holding her.  Hell, part of him wished his pack were here so he could show her off.

“What’s your name?”  He watched her tongue dart out and wet the most desirable lips he’d ever seen.

“Charin.”

“Charin,” he repeated on a low rumble, rolling the name over his tongue.  “How old are you today, my pretty Charin?”

“Twenty-seven.  And I’m not
your
anything,” she grumbled.

He turned his head to hide a smile. 
As if you don’t know!

“I can walk,” she whispered, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I got you, pretty girl.”  Hell no!  He wasn’t putting her down for anything.

The walk back was long, and he spent the time listening to her breathing, listening to her heart, drawing in her scent.  She smelled like home, and he couldn’t get enough of her.  When she shivered, he hoped it was from cold and not pain.  He huddled her closer even as the physical pain of holding her whipped through him.

“Where did you take Beth?”

He looked at her, but she quickly looked away.  He smirked.  “She’ll be taken back to her mate.  She belongs to my Alpha.”

He scented her spike of anger before she frowned up at him.  “We’re women, not possessions.  We don’t
belong
to anyone!”

Wrong, pretty girl, you belong to me. 
Without knowing what else to say, he stopped and looked down at her.  When her eyes met his, he whispered with a surprising amount of emotion, “Happy birthday, Charin.”

She blinked, then opened her mouth as if to respond, but clicked her teeth together instead and turned her head back toward the path with a scowl.

And what did you expect, asshole?  A thank you?  You stabbed your mate!  Just be satisfied that she’s even permitting you to touch her.

Once they hit the tree line, Weston could see that Lincoln and Mateo had the two members of Charin’s pack backed up against the truck that held Clay and Bethany.

One of the males saw Weston, and his eyes shot to Charin’s leg before he stepped forward.  Lincoln’s arm on the man’s shoulder kept him from getting any closer to the pack Beta.

“You hurt her!” the man accused and held out his arms.  “Give her to me!”

Weston growled and flashed fang before tightening his hold on Charin.  The reaction drew an alarmed glance from her.

“What are you going to do with us?” she asked.

Fear seized him.  The smart thing to do would be to get in the truck with Lincoln, Mateo, Clay, and Bethany and leave Charin and her pack in the parking lot.  The problem with that plan was that he didn’t want to let Charin go.  Hell, he didn’t know if he
could
let her go.

“Get in the truck,” he commanded, and Mateo smirked at the two young shifters before shoving one out of the way to climb into the back seat of the ultra-cab where he nestled in beside Bethany.  Lincoln didn’t move.

“You too, Link.”

Lincoln shook his head.  He wouldn’t leave his Beta alone with three rival wolves, even if one was a wounded female.

Shit!
  How was he supposed to explain this with Lincoln here?

“Bobby?”  Charin reached for the man who’d tried to take her earlier, and Weston growled, spinning to break the man and Charin’s eye contact.

“Charin’s coming with me,” Weston snarled.

The male, Bobby, frowned.  “No way!”

“She’s injured and needs to be cared for.”  Everyone, including Lincoln, looked at Weston as if he was crazy.  They were all shifters, and shifters healed themselves.

“There might still be part of the sliver in her leg,” he lied, even as Charin’s worried eyes shot to her thigh.

“But you said…”

He cut her off. “We have a healer that can look her over.”  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lincoln crook a half-smile knowingly.

“You are
not
taking her.” Bobby stepped closer in challenge, and Weston wished Charin wasn’t in his arms so he could punch a hole through the other man.

“Lincoln.”

Lincoln stepped forward at his Beta’s command, and the two young shifters instantly parted to allow Lincoln to open the passenger-side door.  Weston climbed in and settled Charin on his lap.

“Oh my God!  Charin!”  Bethany leaned forward to grab her friend’s shoulder.  “What happened?  Are you okay?”

“Who’s she?”  Clay asked excitedly from the driver’s seat, his eyes dipping to Charin’s thigh.

Weston growled and placed a hand on her knee so the pack healer couldn’t see around his forearm.  “She’s mine.”

“I’m
not
his,” Charin countered quietly.  “Bobby?” She tried to get out of the vehicle, but Lincoln shut the door while Weston fumed. 

Who in the hell was this Bobby character to her? 
Now that Weston had her in the vehicle, and his wolf was satisfied that she was coming with them, he had to shift her body so that there was clothing between his skin and hers.  The agony of skin-to-skin contact was getting to him, but worse, Charin would be sapped of energy, which meant she wouldn’t heal.  “Let’s go!”