The pitiful sounds receded behind her as she approached the Blood barracks. These were in better condition. In fact, apart from the locks on the doors and the barred windows, they were identical to the barracks the human staff was housed in.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she stepped through the door and out of the glare of the sun. Although weak, the light was still over-bright for her sensitive eyes. The blessed darkness and coolness from the corridor’s air-con washed over her, making her aware of just how hot and grubby she felt. Perhaps she could collapse in a puddle on the floor and absorb the cold of the tile like some sort of reverse lizard, shedding heat instead of basking on a rock.
“Well, well, well…if it isn’t the Ice Queen herself.”
Her head snapped up at the mocking voice, every fiber of her being on alert as her vision altered in the dim light. A familiar male figure detached itself from the shadows up ahead. Toni fought back the urge to curl her lip and snarl.
Captain Brent McCoy. Tall, blond and all American—he was too pale for the jock he obviously had been. Now he was a Blood, like her but from a newer batch. A different version of the serum. There was a darkness in McCoy which attracted and repulsed her at the same time. The repulsion was aided by the fact the guy was an absolute grade-A dick.
He sauntered forward, careful to stay out of range. His eyes glittered in the darkness and swept over her figure with far more interest than was healthy for his continued well-being.
“Heard you brought in a mutt. Mind you, you are a bitch so it probably thought you were its mother.”
“Right into the name calling today, McCoy? Normally you can manage at least one civil exchange. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’ll have to finish this conversation when I have far less time.”
Brent’s lip curled back, a snarl rattling in the back of his throat. Forget the Lycans outside—this idiot was far more of an animal. She’d seen the state of those he’d been sent to deal with. Even for a Blood, it didn’t make for easy sleeping.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Fucking bitch rug-muncher.”
Hate ringing in his voice, he took a step closer. Squared up to her with murder and bloodlust in his eyes. Toni sighed. And there was the root of Brent’s problem with her. He was cut from the same cloth as Fitzgerald. She was a woman and a superior officer, which was enough to generate deep contempt, but his hatred ran deeper.
She knew why. They’d been assigned to the base within weeks of each other, way back when. From the moment they’d met, he’d made no secret of his interest. She’d turned him down, politely, but he couldn’t leave it. Unable to accept a woman was immune to his charm, he’d started a campaign against her. Her kit damaged, things stolen, then the rumors. Anything from gang-bangs in her room to the latest…that she was a lesbian.
“Rug muncher?” She chuckled, using words to cover the slight movement when she shifted her weight. The threat of violence hung in the air between them, the tension so thick a mere spark would be enough to set it off. Darkness uncurled from the black space that was her soul.
“No, I like c*ck too much. Wait…” She blinked. “That could have been why I turned you down. Gee, fancy that.”
She’d pushed too far. Brent’s expression twisted, the hate no longer confined to his eyes. His roar of rage bounced back from the whitewashed walls and he charged. She was ready for him, the blackness within her flowing free with joy as she met him halfway.
The fight was fast and brutal. Blow after blow traded and blocked quicker than the human eye could see. Even for a Blood, Brent was damn quick. Toni grinned as she foiled an uppercut and let fly with a right hook. Her fist slammed into his jaw, blood splattering over the wall, but she didn’t give him any respite. She twisted to slam her elbow into his abused jaw, a grunt escaping her lips.
Her stomach muscles tightened as she reversed the movement, driving the back of the elbow into the other side of his jaw and hammering her fist home in the same spot. Brent’s head snapped one way, then the other under the force of her blows, impacts that would have driven a human to his knees and ended the fight.
But Brent wasn’t human.
He shook his head, recovering faster than Toni anticipated. A curse escaped her lips and was cut off halfway when he lashed out, booted foot slamming into her solar plexus to drive her back. She crashed into the hard surface behind her, all the breath forced from her lungs. The steel-reinforced wall groaned at the blow, plaster dusting her head and shoulders. Pain flared through her body. Fuck, the bastard had a kick on him.
She had less than a second to recover. Brent charged her and she read her death in his black eyes. Behind him the flicker of movement, doors opening, told her they were watched. She had to win this. No two ways about it. This wasn’t about Brent being pissed she’d turned him down. It wasn’t about jealousy or anger, or anything remotely human anymore.
No, this was about the side of them that came from a test-tube. It was all about the inhumanity that infected their cells along with the virus…the sick lust that reacted to violence, pain and death. It was about proving once and for all which one of them was better, faster, stronger.
She sidestepped and Brent’s fist slammed into the wall where her head had been a moment before. Plaster broke, falling away to reveal raw brickwork. He started to pull back, already tracking her movements but she was too fast. Her fingers stole around his wrist, thick and corded with muscle. Her talons punched through the skin, seeking the gaps between the wrist bones, and he screamed. The heady scent of blood bloomed on the air. Tantalizing. Distracting. She ignored it in favor of spinning him around, then slammed his face into the opposite wall.
He kicked back. Pain flared in her knee, sending red-hot pokers up her leg. Losing her grip, she stumbled back. Protected her face and soft abdomen from his claws as he backed her up along the corridor. Fuck. How had he come back so fast?
She couldn’t afford to be weak. Weakness meant death. She had to win this. No hope of any help. The doors were open but none of the other Bloods would step up to her aid. If they did, they risked Brent and his bully boys coming after them in the night. Nor would the guards outside bother. Even if they did hear the commotion, they wouldn’t come in here. It was all very well breaking up a Lycan fight when the combatants were safely behind razor wire made of steel and silver, and quite another to walk into a nest of vipers.
Her wolf would. The thought snuck in as Brent grabbed her wrist in a copycat of her move. His claws scored her skin and fire wrapped around her arm. He roared, other hand hard on the back of her neck as he propelled her into the wall.
She got her feet under her, ran up the wall and over his arm to drop behind him. Her hands moved in a blur of speed. She punched his back, open fisted and with claws extended. With each blow the sharp talons sliced deeply into the flesh either side of his spine. He howled and jerked as she sliced and diced his internal organs, black blood flowing down his back and legs.
Finally he fell forward, slumping against the wall to slide down it into a small heap. Toni looked at his body. He wasn’t dead. Not yet. She could still feel the darkness coiled within him as his body sought to repair the damage she’d done.
A snarl curled her lips. Pinning him with a knee in the middle of his back, she grabbed his hair and yanked his head up. His face was splattered with blood, his eyes wide and panicked as he looked up at her.
“Remember this.” Her claws tickled his throat, her voice little more than a low hiss. “Whenever you think you’ve got the balls to take me on again, remember this. Next time I won’t let you off so easy. I’ll tear your f**king throat out and feed your body to the goddamn crows.”
Chapter Seven
The base lay below them, a festering ulcer on the grubby sands of the desert. Sanders narrowed his eyes, squinting to get a better view across the distance. They couldn’t get any closer. Miles of sandy scrubland separated the base from the nearest foothills where he and Nic lurked. The two wolves watching. Waiting. The advance guard for the rest of the pack.
“Where do you think they’ve got him?”
There was no need to whisper but Nic kept her voice low all the same. Both wolves had reverted to human form so they could talk, squatting nak*d in the dirt for the moment. It was coming up to full moon, so control of the change was easier for them both. Near enough that they could shift and talk rather than play a game of charades to work out more complex ideas than “run this way” or “danger”. Their wolf instincts were good—better than good—and allowed them to operate seamlessly as a pack, but sometimes you needed human vocal chords to get over the finer points in conversation.
“Not a clue.”
Sanders shrugged and leaned on the rock in front of him. It was still warm from the sun, the heat leeching through his skin. It would drop cold soon, and the more heat he could get, the better.
“Not in the barracks, that’s for sure. They pretty much trashed them when they took us in.”
Nic nodded, a rumble in the back of her throat. Armed commandos and explosives—never a good combination in an enclosed space, then a trip to the land of the hug-me jackets with daily silver nitrate injections, just for kicks and giggles.
“I’d say one of the labs.” Sanders shuddered. “Dissection maybe. No way that Blood didn’t figure out he could part shift. They’ll want to know how he’s managing it.”
“Fuck…”
Nic moved closer and Sanders lifted his arm, offering her the comfort of an embrace. The pack was very tactile, but he was the only one Nic trusted implicitly. He didn’t question. Like him, Nic had her secrets.
She burrowed closer against his side, tucking herself in between him and the rock, trying to grab some of the fleeing warmth. They’d have to revert to fur soon. Chills crept over Sanders’s skin as the last rays of sunlight on the horizon disappeared. Twilight crept over the landscape to steal all the color and cast a blanket of cold.
“Do you think he was right? That the Blood is his mate?” Nic’s voice was soft, the anger she usually carried around with her gone, and the question little more than a wistful note on the air. A wistful note he could identify with, the same hopes resonating in his soul. That somewhere out there was his own soul mate. A male made just for him, who would accept him for who he was without prejudice. He snorted to himself. He hadn’t found that when he was human, so why did he think he was going to find it now fate had screwed him over?
“We have to hope so. At least then he has someone on his side in there. Kinda…at least until we get there.” Surely the mate-bond would be enough to override the hate between Bloods and Lycans? Love conquered all, right? They had to hope so, or the LT was in there on his own. Otherwise known as up shit creek without a paddle. Sanders had been there. It wasn’t fun.
“I… I’d like a mate.”
He blinked and turned his head to look at Nic. She was rested with her back against the rock, head next to his shoulder and her eyes closed.
“You would? I thought you were Miss I don’t need a man?”