Crave The Night by Michele Hauf, Sharon Ashwood, Lori Devoti & Patti O'Shea Read online

  She stood aside to let two men into the room. They were broad-shouldered, deep-chested werewolves burnt bronze by the sun—the kind of hard workers Wolf Creek had aplenty. Rafe recognized them as a pair of the hands from down at Bearpaw Ranch. “Tom, Wyatt, what’re you doing here?”

  Neither answered, as if Rafe didn’t count. Both cautiously approached Darak, the heels of their boots clicking on the floor. Big as the two yahoos were, the vampire made them look like Cowboy Ken dolls. Darak cast Rafe an exasperated glance. “Seriously? I have to bash puppies?”

  “Bugger this.” Rafe’s temper slipped. His people were in trouble. His father was in trouble. Why weren’t these two stretched out in beds number nine and ten?

  Because they’re traitors. The thought oozed through him, slippery and hideous as a slug.

  “Back off, boys,” Rafe said, his voice flat with anger. They didn’t have weapons that he could see. Then again, neither did he—anymore.

  They continued to ignore Rafe, their attention fully on the vampire.

  “We know what he’s doing here,” Tom indicated Rafe with a jerk of his thumb.

  “But what’s a vampire doing in our territory?” Wyatt said angrily.

  Thinking about pulling your head off, you doorknob. Rafe spun Wyatt around. “Never mind him. Talk to me.”

  “But Miss Lila wants to know!”

  Lila. The name hung in the air, uttered like an invocation. As he said it, Wyatt’s eyes grew vibrant with devotion. Then, he turned back to Darak with single-minded purpose.

  Rafe’s stomach flopped. He’s under her influence. He might as well be drugged. Rafe grabbed Wyatt by the collar, hauling him backward hard enough that his feet left the floor. “I said, back off.”

  He cast a quick glance at the woman—Lila—but she just sipped her water and looked on with the mild interest of someone watching a wildlife documentary. The cool look ignited his temper, making him jerk Wyatt that much harder.

  “Hey!” The wolf pulled free and wheeled around, breaking Rafe’s grip with a sweep of his arm. “What makes you think you can come in here and….”

  Rafe caught a glimpse of Wyatt’s fist just as it swooped toward his temple. Instinct took over. Rafe ducked, driving his shoulder into Wyatt’s middle. He heard the breath leave his opponent’s body in a whoosh, then the thump of flesh as Wyatt’s back hit the wall. Wyatt swore, writhing to get away.

  Rafe let out a wolfish snarl. “I am your next Alpha. Pay attention when I speak.”

  Pain sliced through him as a fist pounded into his kidneys. It was Tom, attacking from behind. Eyes watering, Rafe sidestepped and spun, using the momentum to deliver a clean cross to Tom’s jaw. Tom fell into Darak’s waiting arms and was lifted clear off the floor.

  “Naughty, naughty,” said the vampire in softly evil tones.

  Apparently, the diversion was all that Wyatt needed. He launched himself at Rafe, fingernails lengthening into claws. A slash to Rafe’s cheek drew blood. He roared in fury. Rafe grabbed his shirt and pulled Wyatt close, limiting his ability to strike.

  Hot blood trickled down his face like tears. He could see the gleam of Wyatt’s eyes, the lift of his chin as he sniffed the blood. Pulling claws like that was dirty pool, and Rafe saw guilt in the nervous twitch of Wyatt’s jaw.

  “You really shouldn’t have done that,” Rafe snarled.

  Sweat gleamed on Wyatt’s high forehead. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You always have choices, even if some of them suck.”

  He backed up just enough to flip Wyatt around and smash his head into the wall. Wyatt slumped to the ground like a deboned chicken.

  Tom was already unconscious. Although every second had stretched like taffy, the fight was over in a flash.

  Lila cleared her throat. “Alpha, you said?”

  Rafe rounded on her, temper loosening his tongue. “I am Rafe Devries. In the absence of my father, I’m in charge. Whatever you’re up to, Pack Devries will fight back.”

  Instinct drove him to stand between his people and the beautiful enemy. The sight of her still moved him, even if the wolf inside knew they were on the brink of a fight to the death.

  Her luminous green eyes narrowed slightly, but he couldn’t tell if it was amusement or annoyance. He could smell her fear, but she was hiding it well.

  She didn’t spare a glance for the men on the floor. “So far all you’ve proved is that your automatic response to aggression is aggression. That makes my job easy, because I know exactly how you’ll react to everything I do and say.”

  He filed that bit information, not letting it distract. He was in battle mode, every sense alert. He could still feel the pull of her presence, as if every atom of her body were calling to his. She took a step forward, and he felt her focus on him, pushing at the barrier of his will. Her skin looked so soft, like she might melt in his hands. Desire settled in his belly, fogging the reasons why he shouldn’t do whatever she asked. Desire turned to heat, heat to something feral. Rafe’s need for her incinerated his reason, leaving it burnt wisps of ash.

  Or would have, except for the need to protect the Pack. That alone remained solid though every other rational idea deserted him. Rafe took a long, shuddering breath, fighting the urge to kneel before her, leap on her, worship her, grind into her. It was like clawing free of a python that crushed his lungs, except this one attacked his will.

  Good thing he was one stubborn cuss. When her hold on him finally slipped, there was an almost audible snap in the air. Rafe staggered back, breathing hard. With a bolt of satisfaction, he saw her flinch, too.

  She’s a trickster. Beautiful, but evil. Remember the pickle fork. He chanted the words to himself a few times, using them like a talisman. Pickle fork. Pickle fork.

  “What do you want?” he snapped. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Her eyes flared, her expression uncertain. No doubt the failure of her spell made her nervous. Still, her voice was calm. “To acquire Wolf Creek for my employers. They want it cleared of residents.”

  He flicked a burst of fury aside, refusing to react. “We homesteaded that land. It’s our territory.”

  Suddenly the choice of hostages made sense. Every one of the sleepers owned a big parcel of land.

  Her cold expression didn’t change. “It won’t be yours for long. Not if you want your loved ones to wake.”

  Rafe had been braced for those words, but hearing them still made the blood rush in his ears. He barely crossed glances with Darak, and the two of them surged toward her, using speed faster than a human eye could track.

  He grabbed one of her arms, forcing her to her knees. Darak grabbed her other wrist and wrenched his gun away. Her glass hit the carpet, ice cubes tumbling out to glisten against the thick white pile. Water stained a dark patch in the knee of her jeans. A noise escaped her, half cry, almost a laugh. Rafe grabbed a fistful of her thick, pale hair, holding her as gently as he could without letting her stir an inch.

  Darak pressed the muzzle of his gun to her temple.

  “What did you do to my people?” Rafe snarled. “What’s keeping them asleep?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she taunted. “Not that you could hope to understand the technical points of a soporific spell.”

  “Are all fey this snotty?”

  She didn’t reply. A booming sound resonated in the house. Rafe stiffened, his heart speeding faster. “What the hell was that?”

  The booming sound repeated, coming closer, and closer again. Rafe figured out what it was. Doors closing. No doubt every door in the house. Were Lila’s invisible servants sealing them in?

  “That is the sound of your incarceration,” she said. “Not that I need more hostages. I’ve taken eight of your Pack for my own. A six-Pack would have been amusing. The mounting numbers are just getting tiresome.”

  Darak pressed the muzzle a fraction deeper into her temple. “Time to rethink, Tinker Bell.”

  The front door slammed, followed by the
sound of metal bolts sliding home. “I think I have all the cards,” Lila said coolly. “You’re going to surrender to me.”

  Rafe caught a whiff of something burning. Darak grunted in surprise and dropped his weapon to the floor. It sizzled, blackening the white carpet. Steam hissed as the red-hot metal touched an ice cube. The vampire cursed in a language older than the Crusades.

  The next instant Lila seemed to melt from Rafe’s hands. One moment she was firmly in his grasp. A second later she simply—wasn’t. She was on the other side of the room, her hands clenched into fists.

  Electricity rippled through the room, raising the fine hairs on Rafe’s arms and leaving the faint smell of ozone behind. A moment later, the two felled wolves rose to their feet, heads lolling and eyes shut. A shudder rippled along Rafe’s skin. Their movements were too fluid, too boneless. They looked as if someone were behind them, lifting them like rag dolls and shaking their limbs into place. Those damned servants again.

  Revulsion was making him sweat. Rafe pulled off his jacket, hands damp and sticky on the leather. Half of his brain was already mapping out the next fight, the other half admitting their efforts weren’t getting them anywhere. He glanced at Darak. His friend’s scowl said he was thinking the same thing. They needed a new plan, but what the hell did this macabre puppet show mean?

  “Enough already. Leave them alone.” Darak reached for Tom, his big hand engulfing the werewolf’s arm.

  The moment they touched, a blazing light filled the room, like a thousand cameras flashing at once.

  Rafe hurtled backward, tossed over an unoccupied bed. He landed awkwardly, wrenching his shoulder as he rolled upright. His ribs ached like he’d taken a roundhouse kick.

  Rafe got to his feet. He heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, which meant Darak was already in action. He glanced around. Hope flickered when he saw Lila was no longer there. Tom and Wyatt were gone, too.

  Then shock speared through him. Darak was wrestling with two creatures that had nothing to do with werewolves. So these were the servants, made visible for the fight. Holy frackin’ batwings.

  They were nearly as big as Darak and equipped with beaks, wings, and claws the length of lawnmower blades. Their skin was a dark mud color, leathery and pebbled with sharp spines sticking from each joint. Gargoyles? Godzilla wannabes? It didn’t matter what they were called. Darak was covered with slashes that dripped thick, dark vampire blood. A human body wouldn’t last an instant.

  Good thing he had options. Rafe stripped off his clothes in seconds. It didn’t take a full moon to change. That was a myth, along with the idea that being a werebeast was contagious. But it was hard work and not always a sure thing. Not so easy if a person was distracted.

  Like under attack by big ugly reptiles.

  He heard Darak scream. Not yell, or bellow, but a scream of pure rage, and the pungent smell of undead blood washed through the room.

  Rafe’s breath left his body, forcing his mind to be calm. He crouched on the floor, naked, fighting the reflex to leap up and fight.

  Concentrate. The floor was cold and slightly dusty under his bare flesh, the cracks between the tiles an endless, dizzying path.

  A howl, not human, not animal, twisted in the air.

  Shut it out! The speckles in the tile flowed like waves on a shore, ripples of dark and light and . . .

  His consciousness disappeared down the dark hole that was his inside place, the part that held his other half. Mentally, it was like folding himself inside out, like a reversible garment, and simply bringing his other side to the surface. Physically, it was just best to surrender. People saw flowing fur and wrenching bones, but that wasn’t what he perceived from the inside. Changing felt like a bad charley horse, a terrible cramp that needed to stretch out.

  A bad, bad cramp, like every bone in his body was sucking itself inward. Like he would splinter, folded by impossible pressure. The only relief was to pull his limbs back into shape by pulling, rolling, thrusting claws and fangs from his flesh and howling his relief with all the might of his lungs.

  Then, suddenly, he was shaggy fur and sharp teeth, with a terrible need to kill and eat. Rafe sprang to his paws, his ears swiveling to catch the sounds of the fight. Now that he was armed—or pawed, as the case may be—and protected by his thick coat, he could leap into it and hope to survive.

  In real time, the change was almost instant. Rafe circled the bed. Moving slowly, his broad paws made no sound. Colors had faded, but his vision was excellent. He could smell far more scents now, the traces of people who had come and gone. And magic. Fey magic. Rafe growled deep in his chest, unable to quell the instinct to warn off danger.

  Darak was barely holding his own. The vampire swung his fist like a hammer, smashing the reptile thing in the side of its leathery head. It recoiled with a snarling scream, wings unfurling to block the faint light in the room. Darak slammed an uppercut into its beak, snapping its head back, but with a single beat of the huge, leathery wings the creature rose in the air, raising its back claws to rake down the front of the vampire’s chest. Darak went over backward, the gargoyle riding him down. Both creatures jumped on him, jackals on a wounded lion.

  One of the things turned to peer at Rafe over its shoulder, a curiously ordinary gesture. Rafe sprang, knocking the gargoyle aside, closing his jaws on its hideous throat. That gave the vampire the moment he needed. Darak tossed the creature to its back, twisting the snapping beak away from his bleeding wounds.

  Then, suddenly, Lila was in the room again. Rafe clamped his jaws tighter on the gargoyle’s neck, holding it still but waiting a moment before the kill. There was no telling what such a monstrosity might be worth to its mistress.

  Tensed to rend and tear, he tracked the fey’s movements from the corner of his vision. She was moving too fast to see clearly, and all he could tell was that she had something in her hand. She released it with a word, flinging it into the air. It sailed and Rafe crouched down on his prey, keeping out of the glittering object’s path.

  Darak wasn’t so lucky. The silver net fell over the vampire, dropping him helpless to the floor. Fey-spelled silver would rob him of his extraordinary strength. He let out an angry roar, tearing at the web that tightened even as he struggled.

  The next moment, Lila covered them both with Darak’s Smith and Wesson.

  “Get this straight, boys.” Her tone cracked in the suddenly silent room. “I have millennia of magic bred into my bones. I’m fast, strong and smart and maybe just all-around better at everything than you are, so don’t mess with me.”

  Oh, yeah? Rafe itched to prove her wrong. Everyone had an Achilles heel, he just didn’t know hers yet. But I can find out. Wait and watch to see what she hides. He wasn’t going to lose to a frackin’ fairy.

  Lila had other ideas. Her eyes widened with pure fury when she saw his teeth on the gargoyle’s throat. She pointed the gun at the closest sleeping figure. It was Eloise Lambert, who ran Wolf Creek’s credit union. “Back down, wolfman, or she dies. I’m not joking.”

  Rafe hesitated a moment, wondering if she’d carry out her threat. The odds were fifty-fifty, but he wasn’t gambling with Eloise’s life. The fey was too angry. He took his jaws from the gargoyle’s throat and gave Lila his best wolfish glare. The gargoyle scuttled to hide behind its much smaller mistress. Then the gun swung from Eloise’s head to point right between Rafe’s eyes.

  Well, that was sort of an improvement. Maybe. Now he just had to convince her to start letting people go.

  He had to risk returning to human form if he was going to talk her into anything. Rafe shifted back without apology for his nakedness. “You smell like fear.”

  Lila’s gaze roved over his body. Pink stole into her pale cheeks like the rose-pearl light before dawn. Sadly, her fingers tightening on the gun spoiled the charming effect. “Maybe, but I’m winning. I had eight hostages; now I have ten. I lured all the strong members of your Pack here, one by one. The wolves you have left in your pathetic litt
le town will tuck their tails and run at the first sign of trouble.”

  Her blush contradicted her hard-boiled words. She also didn’t know a thing about the citizens of Wolf Creek. They were a tough, independent bunch down to the last pup. Tinker Bell had a fight on her hands.

  “Points to you,” Rafe said dryly. “But you’ve got every member of the council here, either asleep or at gunpoint. If you’re trying to deal with the wolves, who are you going to bargain with if all the Pack’s leaders are here?”

  “Who said anything about a bargain?”

  “I don’t see an army. Or are they invisible, too?”

  He’d never get used to looking down the business end of a gun, much less one he knew held silver bullets. Sweat trickled along the small of his back. We can’t win this by brute force. We need to be clever. I need to know why the fey are mixed up in this.

  He put all the lust he felt into his voice. “Let’s bargain, Lila.”

  A spark of interest crossed her face. “Are you offering to trade yourself for someone here?”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Darak interjected. They both ignored him.

  “Yes. For the real Alpha. My father. Let him go.”

  “How filial of you.” Her hands shifted again on the grip of the gun. She was nervous—which could be good or bad. Her gaze kept drifting down his body, then jerking away. “At the moment, I have ten captives. If I accept, then I lose a hostage. I don’t like that.”

  Darak muttered, but the second gargoyle was sitting on him and the sound was muffled.

  “You lose two. Darak isn’t a wolf, he’s not involved, and I need someone to make sure Dad gets home safely. And I want Dad awake and healthy. If you want to negotiate for the town, he has to be competent.”

  She stalked up to Rafe, hovering just beyond his reach. Now the muzzle of the gun was pointed right at his forehead. He suddenly felt as naked as he actually was.

  Her green gaze raked over him. “Your father will awake one hour after your vampire friend puts him back in his own bed. Satisfactory?”