Blood of the Wolf by T. L. Shreffler
She saw a tick start in Tabari's jaw. She smiled wider.
“I really think you should sit next to Jones.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don't.”
Tabari glared at her, then looked back at the elderly woman. Hesitated. Finally he sat down in the empty seat, a low growl coming from his throat. Jaime pretended not to notice, grabbing a magazine from the seat in front of her and flipping through it, looking at the usual safety precautions and advertisements.
“Strange friends you got there,” the lady commented, pulling a novel from her purse and opening it to read.
“Oh, they're not friends,” Jaime replied cheerfully, and returned to the magazine.
Stevie showed up a few minutes after that, frowning when he saw her location away from the other wolves. He settled in the row behind her, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder when he passed — a silent warning. She ignored him. It seemed that as soon as he arrived, the plane pulled away from the terminal and started towards the runway. Jaime prepared herself for lift-off, a knot of tension forming in her gut, half-listening as the pilot briefed them about the weather and expected arrival time. She tried to stay calm and breathe deeply as the engines roared to life, as the plane began to rush down the runway, and finally as it left the ground.
She watched the ground grow further and further away, and briefly wondered where Sirus was. Were they following her? No way to tell.
But there was no going back now.
* * * *
It was about halfway through the flight when Jaime realized she had to pee.
She unbuckled her seatbelt, standing up from her chair. Tabari gave her a look from the row next to her, and she wrinkled her nose. “Bathroom,” she grunted, and turned towards the back of the plane.
“You can wait,” Stevie said from the seat behind her.
“No, I can't,” she snipped back, and continued down the corridor. Tabari looked like he was about to jump up after her, but she saw Stevie give him a warning look. No use acting even more suspicious than they already were. The black werewolf sat back with a huff of breath. Jones let out a loud snore from the seat next to them.
Jaime walked quickly to the back of the plane, dodging around two stewardesses and someone coming back from the bathrooms. She hoped there wasn't a line. Who knew when they would let her use the bathroom next, and she was not meeting Magnus the Gray just to ask where the restrooms were.
Thankfully it was open. The handicap bathroom on the right was unlocked and she squeezed into the small compartment, hardly large enough to maneuver in. At least it was clean.
She did her business quickly and was just washing her hands when there was an insistent knock on the door. “Just a moment!” she called, stopping to check herself in the mirror. She winced, shocked when she saw her reflection — her hair was messed up, her eyes still puffy from her night of crying. She looked pale and wan. There was a smudge of dirt on her jaw. She quickly wiped it off, a pink tinge rising to her cheeks — no wonder it had felt like everyone in the airport was staring at her. She looked a mess! It was a surprise that they hadn't been stopped by security.
She was trying to get a few smudges of mud off of her black sweater when the knock came again, louder this time. She leaned into the mirror, taking her time. It was probably Stevie or Tabari, or maybe even Jones, prodded into checking on her. “Just a minute!” she called, getting a napkin wet and starting on a particularly bad stain. Her clothes looked like they hadn't been washed in days... and she realized that was mostly true. Rain water didn't count.
The knocking continued, louder this time, fast and annoying. Rolling her eyes, she turned and unlocked the door, thrusting it open with a scowl of annoyance.
“Ack!” she yelped as the door was dragged open and a figure forced himself through the opening, pushing her back against the sink. “What-!?” For a moment she thought it was one of the wolves; maybe Jones' self control had finally snapped and he was throwing himself on her, driven crazy by her wolf-moon. She tried not to scream as the body bullied her into the corner and shut the door behind them tight.
A hand grabbed her and dragged her head back, lips claiming hers. The man's smell clogged her senses, and suddenly she thought her heart would stop....
“Sirus?” she gasped, thrusting herself away from him. She leaned back to look at his face, and found herself met by a near-stranger with a hat pulled low over his head, facial hair grown out just long enough to obscure his jaw... but she would recognize those eyes anywhere. “W-what are you doing here?”
“You think I'd let you travel alone with those morons?” he murmured, pushing her back against the wall and kissing her again. “Damn, you smell so goddamn good, practically edible.”
She grinned, wondering at the sudden burst of butterflies in her gut. She was still hesitant to kiss him back, but it felt so good to know he had followed her. Somehow, she hadn't really expected him to.
“I didn't even see you in the airport,” she said, wide-eyed.
“I'm not a Tracker for nothing, dear,” he murmured. “It was easy enough. I just got here before you.”
And he went back to kissing her, and kissing and kissing, until she was a puddle of quivering nerves and heat. She wanted him so bad... her crotch ached with it, desperate for attention, desperate for his hands. He fumbled with her pants, reading her mind, pulling down the waistband of her sweats.
“This is insane!” she said, pulling back with what control she had left. “We can't do this here!”
“Sure we can. Now be quiet.”
He went back to kissing her, his mouth sliding down her neck, drawing gasps from her mouth. Fire erupted inside of her, so intense and frantic that she moaned out loud, dying to be fucked, dying to be rammed against the wall and thrust into until she couldn't breathe. She had never had sex before, but something deep and instinctive in her body craved it; the wolf was ready, and here was her lifemate, just in time.
There was a sudden, rapid knock on the door, disrupting her from the haze of lust that clouded her brain.
“Busy!” Sirus called out roughly, then went back to her mouth, his teeth grazing her lips. It sent a flash of anticipation through her — was he about to bite her? Mark her again? No, she wouldn't be able to handle it, she would lose her mind if she got any hotter... her body was already aroused to the point of pain, fluid drenching her panties, her legs weak and shivering. He was holding her up against the wall; otherwise she would have melted right there to the ground. After a moment he hefted her into the air and set her on top of the sink, then returned to his administrations, ripping up her shirt and going to her breasts. Her nipples had turned into hardened peaks, and she gasped when his lips found them, pulling one into his mouth as his hand played with the other. She sat back, her head going against the mirror, barely able to breathe.
“Oh god....” she moaned.
He didn't say anything, but his hands went to her pants, ripping the button open and tearing down the zipper. She gasped as his hand thrust itself against her pulsating clit, his palm rubbing roughly against her, his fingers pressing into her warm slit. She let out a grunt of pleasure, biting her lip to keep from crying out, then pushed herself forward, wrapping her arms tight around him. She thrust herself against him, panting harshly against his neck, and he held her tightly around the shoulders, fingering her as he circled her clit with his thumb. It was incredible, intense, enough to make tears gather in her eyes and her teeth bear down on his shoulder. Her fangs elongated, sinking into his skin as he lightly shifted her hips... she heard him give a grunt of something that might have been pleasure. His hand found a deeper angle....
And then she was peaking, grinding, struggling to breathe as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She bit back her cries but was still moving mindlessly against him, whimpering and moaning uncontrollably. He held her tight, keeping her close as her spasms stopped and she lay her sweaty head against his shoulder, breathing
“I should get back to my kidnappers,” she murmured against him, her thoughts once more coherent, though she still felt dizzy and wonderful, her whole body buzzing with pleasure. She felt like she was on a drug.
Sirus made a noise of disgust. “Must you remind me?”
“Why, ruin your mood?”
“Oh, nothing could ruin this mood,” he growled, and grabbed her hand, pressing it against his crotch. Jaime felt her mouth open slightly, her breath becoming heavier as she felt the warm hardness against her fingers. He was long, thick... she felt her cunt tingle in response, wanting to be pressed against him, wanting to feel him stretch her with his length. She looked up into his hooded eyes, and he bent down abruptly, capturing her lips in a demanding kiss.
She pulled back, barely able to contain herself. “I've been here too long already,” she said, shaking her head, giving him a meaningful look. “Come on... before we blow our cover.”
He sighed, leaning away from her, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. It was his only response. She slipped from the counter and squeezed around him, adjusting her pants and then reaching for the doorknob. He touched her arm as she passed, one last brush of affection, and then she was stumbling out into the corridor, her sweater crooked and her hair even more messed up than before. She ran her fingers through it, wishing she could tie it back.
Her legs wobbly, she made her way back to the seats, hoping her new captors hadn't wondered at her absence. She saw Tabari glance at her over the back of the seat as she neared, obviously having caught her scent. He looked at her suspiciously, but she just glared back; she didn't care if he smelled anything different about her. Stevie looked back at her too, raising an eyebrow, but she ignored him as she sat down, leaning her chair back and closing her eyes.
“What took you so—” Tabari started, but she cut him off.
“Girl stuff,” she growled, and left it at that. He gave her a narrow look, then sat back in his seat, ignoring her.
Once he looked away, Jaime rubbed her thighs together slightly, unable to help it. The pleasure still tingled across her skin, but now, if anything, she ached even more than before. She bit her lip, wanting to cry from her desperation. How was she ever going to handle Magnus the Gray?
Don't think that, you'll be fine, she told herself.
Somehow, she wasn't so sure.
Chapter 15
After the plane, they rented a car and Jaime was shoved in the backseat. She was taken by surprise with a blindfold and duct tape, and found herself deaf, dumb and blind as they left the airport. Fear settled in her belly, solid and real. She wasn't able to see the streets they passed, but she could remember Paxton like the back of her hand. She imagined the different intersections in her mind, remembering public parks and libraries, the different high schools and restaurants. She wondered if anything had changed since she had walked these streets with her family.
The car drove for a long while, randomly turning this way and that until she lost track of all time and direction. She felt them get on the freeway for a brief amount of time, skipping over a few exits. Were they taking a less direct route on purpose to confuse her, or somehow leaving the city? No one talked; everything felt stiff and tense. A ball of nerves settled in her stomach, making her shift uncomfortably. She wondered what kind of house they were going to, if it was even a house at all, and how far behind the others were. Had they followed from the airport? She hadn't considered their plan past this point. When were they going to rescue her? Immediately? Or were they going to wait? She didn't know what she wanted.
She was sore and uncomfortable by the time the car finally came to a stop. Her back ached and her hands were numb. They opened the door and she felt a cold breeze, the smell of pine trees, the rush of wind through branches.... Then someone grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder, carrying her roughly up a hill. By his scent, she knew it was Tabari, and hated him even more... especially when his hands inched up her leg, gripping her around her butt.
She heard the sound of gravel, then of brick steps. Her wolf senses told her that they were surrounded by a forest and that it was close to evening, given the strength of the sun on her face. She heard a gate unlock, then more steps, and finally a door opening and closing. Smells changed — chemical cleaner, cigarettes, dust, distant wafts of food. She was in a house.
“Is that her?” a new voice asked, a female one. It was dry and unimpressed.
“Yeah. Where's the boss?”
“Upstairs, in his study. You gonna take her to him like that? She's filthy.”
“Shut up, Debora.”
“Hmph,” the woman sniffed, but remained silent. Jaime sensed her moving away. She bit her lip, trying to suppress her nerves. She just had to remember her anger. This was the murderer who had killed her family, the one she should have been hating for the past four years. The thought brought out her courage.
She was carried up a staircase and down another hallway, where she was finally swung to her feet. The blindfold came off. At first the light was hard on her eyes and she squinted, looking around, recognizing she was in front of a door. Before she could respond, though, the door was opened and she was shoved through, stumbling awkwardly to a halt in the middle of a wide room.
Red carpet. Antique bookcases. A man sat behind a desk along the far end; he appeared older, in his early forties maybe, but well kept for his age, with a solid jaw and iron gray buzz cut. It was rich brown with touches of gray at his sideburns. His build was muscular, broad, powerful. He sat back, propping his thick forearms in front of him. A sailor tattoo was on the bottom of one of his arms. She stared at it, horrified.
He didn't smile; instead he watched her with smooth, gray eyes, dark as storm clouds.
“Jaime,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You can call me Magnus.”
“How about I call you a dickwad?”
He didn't flinch at the fowl language. Jaime had hoped to put him off, maybe get him angry — but instead he watched her impassively, as though studying a rare animal. He had a thick, jutting chin covered in dark stubble, speckled with gray. She wanted to punch it.
“I suppose you haven't been properly introduced to my associates here, have you?” he said, motioning to the men behind her. “Boys, come on now, where are your manners? Let her go.”
Tabari released her, and she stumbled forward a little, having to adjust her balance. When she looked back at Magnus, she saw that his expression had changed, though she still couldn't read it. Disgust? Anger?
“She's injured?” he said.
“While she was... eh, with the cops,” Stevie spoke up, his voice extra helpful.
She glared. Magnus turned back to her, shaking his head. His voice had a dark quality when he spoke. “Sorry, I had hoped it wouldn't come to that. Ah well, you're here now, and that's all that matters... unless, of course, there is anything else I should know about?” Magnus raised an eyebrow, glancing back at the men behind her. The question carried a certain weight.
“Nothing, sir. Everything else is in tact,” Stevie said.
“Good.” He stood up, walking around the table to look out the window at his back. He was a giant, almost taller than Tabari and much broader and thicker. He had the grizzled, roughened look of a soldier. Of someone not used to regret or forgiveness.
“Dear girl, do you know Sirus of Seneca?” he asked, his voice deep and soft. Jaime felt her hair stand on end.
“Of course I know him,” she grunted.
“Well, then you might be wondering why I am so interested in you, seeing as you two are already lifemates.” Jaime's eyes widened; how had he known? How could he have known? Was it so obvious...? “You are Marked, my dear, you think it is hard to tell? Well, apparently for these idiots.” The wolf turned and threw a fold of money on the table, glancing at Tabari. “Your payment, plus an extra thousand, for a favor.”
“What?” the man growled.
“Sirus of Seneca is on his way here,” he said, turning and looking at them, a smile just barely pulling at his lips. “I would like you to meet him in the forest. I would like him dead.”
Jaime's eyes widened. “Huh?”
“Right.” Tabari said, and she heard a rumble of amusement low in his throat.
“The honest truth, my dear, is that I am enjoying the Paxton territory, and I don't tolerate competition.” He turned to look at her, giving her a wry smile. “Sirus made the wrong choice to come back here.” He came out from behind the desk, walking towards her. Jaime was breathing hard, panting, confused. So what had this been, a trap? Somehow she was supposed to lure Sirus here? Why did she suddenly feel so afraid?
“No,” she blurted out, when he was a scant few feet away. She cringed backward. “That's not it at all. We're not lifemates, we're enemies, he killed my family—”
“No, dear, I killed your family,” Magnus grinned, then stepped closer to her, reaching out to touch her cheek, to run a rough hand over her neck. “And you will make a fine mate.”
She wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream... but she threw herself to one side instead, trying to dodge away from him. He reached out and grabbed her arm, dragging her roughly around and throwing her towards Tabari. The black man caught her before she fell flat on her face.
“Lock her in the attic!” he growled, his eyes flickering over her body, leering at her. “Tomorrow at midnight her wolf-moon begins. He will come for her before then. I want him dead... and if you can't kill him, then I sure as hell will.” He winked at Jaime, catching her eye. “I might even let you watch.”
“No!” Jaime lunged away in an attempt to break free of Tabari's strong arms, writhing and fighting wildly, suddenly full of desperation. She had to warn him somehow, give him a sign, tell him to go home! She hadn't expected to feel such a strong response, especially towards someone she had so recently hated... and yet... the thought of anything happening to him....