Wolf Bound Read online

  ‘We can’t wait for Bron. We have to do something now.’

  ‘You’re holding her here.’

  He grimaced. ‘She’s holding herself. She’s using the bond and I’m holding her to it, but she’s weakening. She’s lost too much blood. The bond will tear if we don’t do something. Please... help. You’re a nurse. Surely there’s something you can do.’

  She looked lost. Adam couldn’t bare that look in her eyes. He had to do something. Had to bring her out of her grief and shock and bring her back to the here and now. He began to sing ‘Suicide Blonde’, doing his best Michael Hutchence impersonation. He knew she hated it. Knew it would make her angry. And anger would snap her out of her grief and make her move.

  Her eyes flared wide and she snorted out on a laugh, ‘Shut up you idiot!’

  ‘Sure. As soon as you snap out of it and do what you’re trained to do.’ He pointed to Iain. To Eloise. ‘She needs your help.’

  Suddenly she was moving, racing over to rip the bloody sheet off the bed and turn to where Iain lay with Eloise clutched in his arms. It had worked. She was nurse Shelley again, action girl. One of the many sides of her he loved.

  Smiling, he watched her go to work, directing Iain to place Eloise on the bed, snapping out instructions to Iain, who despite his own injuries and weakness, complied, even to the point where he allowed Shelley to hook him up as a blood donor when they found no blood—Iain was a universal donor, thankfully. As they worked, Adam became aware of a curious pull on him. Almost as if one of the pack were pulling on his pack bond. Weird. He would have thought that bond was sliced clean the moment he died. Maybe it didn’t fully go until the ceremony of light had been completed and his body taken in the flame of the power of his coven. He knew dead Were didn’t stick around once the ceremony was done. Shelley had never seen any Were spirits—just human and witch and warlock. Perhaps he would be here, linked, until then. As Marcus was.

  The pull became stronger, dragging him towards Iain and Eloise. He let it. While he could, he’d give everything he could to help Iain save his mate.

  Jason, Skye, Bron and River charged into the room. Jason’s gaze arrowed immediately to Adam’s body, the gaping wound in his chest smouldering and black.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Skye gasped.

  ‘Adam! Bron! Help.’

  His brother’s cry of denial was like another tearing wound in his chest. Fuck! He’d never wanted to cause anyone that grief, let alone his big brother who had already been through too much. But what could he do? He was dead.

  Alistair and June charged in behind them. They howled at the sight of their dead Alpha and went down on their knees next to Marcus and Cordy, keening at the ceiling.

  Bron dropped down on her knees beside Adam’s body, hands held over him, the anguish in her eyes only a fraction of what was in Jason’s.

  He held his breath, waiting for her to say the words that would make their grieving real.

  Shelley’s gaze flickered to him. She took a deep breath and gripped Bron’s shoulder. ‘Don’t. He’s gone.’

  Bron shook her head. ‘No. He’s still here. The bolt missed his heart. It’s still beating. It’s faint but still beating.’

  ‘What?’ Adam stared down at his body as Shelley slowly turned to look at him.

  ‘That’s impossible. I saw—’

  He wasn’t dead? Did that mean he was alive? He reached out to touch her, made contact. She jumped. ‘Holy shit. What was that?’ He stared down at his hand. He’d felt her. Felt her! He looked up at her. She looked just as shocked as he felt. ‘Shelley? Tell me you felt that.’

  ‘Saw what?’ Skye’s voice intruded.

  Shelley shook her head, at Skye or at him, he wasn’t certain. ‘I must have been mistaken,’ she whispered and turned back to Bron. ‘Can you heal him?’

  ‘I’m trying. I’m trying.’

  Skye and Jason began to question Shelley about what had happened. Adam waited for her to answer, for her to finish with them. Marcus began to speak to her again, gesturing at his packmates. She crossed to Alistair and June, spoke softly. They stopped keening and stood, fury and grief in their eyes. ‘You have to stop them from doing something stupid, Shelley. You’re the only one who can.’ Shelley’s gaze shot to him and then away, her lips working as if she was holding back some terrible emotion. He wanted to talk to her, wanted to ask her so many things, wanted to try to touch her again, but she got up and hurried back to help Iain with Eloise. Then she went back to Alistair and June. More of the McClune pack arrived, and with words that Marcus spoke to her, Shelley managed to keep them focused, settling Cordy comfortably on a bed, covering and then carrying away Marcus’ body. Some went in search of Cain. ‘God help Cain when they catch up with him,’ he whispered.

  There was a tug on him again and he stumbled a little towards Iain and Eloise. They needed his strength. He was happy to give it to them. He glanced over to where Bron worked on him, Jason’s hand on her shoulder feeding his strength and Alpha power into her to use in healing his horrific wounds. At any time, he expected to be pulled back to his body as she used her powers to knit his sinews back together. But there was no tug back towards the shell that was once his. It was as if whatever had held him to his body had been completely severed.

  He concentrated on Iain and Eloise, concentrated on the sensation that was pulling at him. He needed to give them more.

  ‘Don’t do that.’

  He turned. Shelley’s eyes were wide, slightly panicked, as she stared at him. ‘Don’t do what?’

  ‘Whatever you’re doing. Stop it. You’re fading.’ Her voice was a mere whisper, but he heard it as clear as a bell.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She looked around the room. Everyone was busy with what they were doing and were taking no notice of her. Not that Shelley talking to spirits was anything new—she tried to ignore them, but they weren’t always ignorable. Except now. They weren’t trying to talk to her now. They were all hovering near his body or Iain and Eloise. Marcus and a few others were standing over Cordy. For the time being, she had some peace from them all.

  She turned back to him. ‘I don’t know.’ She gestured with her hands, waving them up and down. ‘You’re less real looking. And flickering a little. I don’t think it’s good. What are you doing?’

  ‘I felt Iain pulling on the pack bond so I channelled my strength into it to help him with Eloise.’

  ‘Well stop it. I don’t like the look of what it’s doing to you.’ She went to move past him.

  He grabbed her arm. She hissed. He let go. ‘Sorry. Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No.’ She stared at him, down at his hand, back up. ‘It’s just, you touched me. How did you touch me?’

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is I can. That I felt it. And so did you.’

  She nodded. ‘It’s icy cold.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry. I’ll try and warm up a bit. I wonder if the fire pits of hell are close by?’

  Her lips twitched. ‘You’re such an idiot.’

  He couldn’t help but smile at her epithet. ‘Even in death.’

  Her eyes clouded, gaze flickering to his body. ‘You’re not dead,’ she whispered.

  He leaned closer to grab her attention. ‘Shelley. What’s going on? If I’m not dead, then why can you see me? Why can I touch you? What am I?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Her gaze met his, a thousand troubled questions clouding the clear, almost violet, blue. ‘I don’t know.’ Iain called her then. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Don’t tell them you can see me, Shelley. I don’t want them more upset than they already are. I don’t want them to give up hope of me. Not until we’ve figured out what’s going on.’

  She didn’t look at him again, just pressed her lips together, nodded and walked away.

  He turned back to the room, his thoughts whirring. There had to be some way he could find out what was going on. Why he was so separate from his body and yet he wasn’t dead. Was he a Shade like Cain had been
? No. That couldn’t be it. He’d touched Shelley and hadn’t sucked her life energy from her as Cain had done when he touched others. There was something else going on here. Maybe one of the spirits could help him. According to Shelley, some of them were ancient and had knowledge of things that had been lost to them. Perhaps there was one in the room with him now.

  He looked around and caught a woman with long, tangled black hair, staring at him from across the room, her eyes a startling violet glow in the darkened corner in which she stood. She was wearing a gown that looked like it might be from the fifteenth or sixteenth century—although historical fashion wasn’t his forte, so he could be completely off there. But she was the only one showing him any interest. She floated over to him.

  ‘You should touch her again. Do it as often as you can.’

  ‘I can hear you.’

  ‘Of course. We are the same. The others are not.’

  ‘What are we?’

  She waved her hand back towards Shelley. ‘You must tie yourself to her more firmly through your bond.’

  ‘Our bond?’ He shook his head. ‘There’s nothing but the pack bond.’

  She tipped her head, assessing. ‘You truly believe that?’

  ‘What else could there be?’

  She opened her mouth as if to answer and then shook her head. ‘You must come with me.’

  ‘And why must I do that?’

  ‘You want to know who you are, don’t you? Why you’re here? What your role is in all this?’

  ‘What role? I’m here because I was stupid enough to get hit by Warlock Lightning.’

  She tutted at him. ‘You are important, Adam McVale. More important than anyone has ever given you credit for. But to learn all you need to learn, you must come with …’ She jumped as if she’d heard a sound and looked behind her, then back at him, her face lined with worry. ‘I must go. You need to come with me now. There is much you must learn.’

  She reached for him. He edged away. The tug of the pack bond pulled insistently. He couldn’t leave, no matter what the strange woman said. His pack needed him.

  ‘They will always need you. But your role as Trickster is more important than you know, and staying here won’t teach you what you need to learn to save your pack.’

  Her words skittered down his spine and he shivered, as if touched by magic or prescience. ‘Who are you?’

  She jumped again, looked behind her. Eyes flared wide. ‘You must come with me. Now.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who you are and what this is about.’

  Frustration twisted her face. ‘I can’t. Not here.’ She looked behind her again and when she turned back, her eyes were full of fear. ‘You can stay, for now. Do what you must to help. But when I come back, I won’t give you any choice. I only hope it won’t be too late.’

  ‘Too late for what?’

  She glanced behind her, her fear palpable, and then, tossing her hood over her head, she turned and ran through the wall to his left, disappearing from view.

  The roaring of wind around him crescendoed to ear-splitting proportions. He clutched at his ears, trying to cut out the sound. It barely made any difference. The sound became pain. He bent over, trying to shield his head, his ears, from the ear-splitting noise. A dark shadow of movement rushed forward, glimpsed out the corner of his eye. It disappeared through the wall where the spirit woman had run just moments before.

  The deafening sound disappeared with the shadow, leaving only the rustle of wind behind.

  ‘What the fuck?’ All he could hear now was the whistling whoosh of wind that had been in his ears ever since he’d been kicked from his body.

  He shuddered and looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the strange woman and the shadow that followed her. A woman who looked strangely familiar, although he couldn’t figure out why, was frowning at him, and then back at the wall. She said something to him, but he couldn’t hear her above the noise of wind all around him. Shelley was staring at him. Their gazes met. She looked away and went back to tending Cordy.

  For some reason, she didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t even seem to want to see him. But that was okay. She couldn’t ignore him forever.

  In the meantime, he had to figure out a way to hear one of the other spirits. Perhaps one of them would know who that woman was. Perhaps he should have gone with her, but how could he, with the bond tugging at him like it was?

  He sighed. The pack bond. At least he still had that. The lady had said he didn’t know who he was or understand his true role of Trickster. What he did know was that he was still tied to his pack. Iain’s need to keep Eloise alive was pressing on him, pulling at him. He had to do whatever he could to help. It was what he’d always done. And despite what Shelley had said to him about not pushing his power through the pack bond, he had to help. It was the only thing he could do and he would keep on going until he could do it no more.

  Chapter 2

  Morghanna ran. Her enemy was close. Its breath was cold death, whispering down her neck, promising finality in the way the death of her body never had. She’d never let it get so close before, but then, there had never been so much to lose.

  She’d worked too long and too hard to let it close now. She could turn and fight, but then it might sense more than fear for herself, and she couldn’t allow that.

  She couldn’t allow it to touch another one of her family. She was only lucky it hadn’t seen what she’d done here tonight. She’d been so elated with her success that she’d almost missed the sound of it coming; the icy dark tingle that had chased along her skin, rippled up her spine. She’d almost let it too close.

  But then, she’d been trying to grasp for what she’d worked centuries to bring about—a way to defeat their enemy once and for all. It had been difficult to turn from that.

  She hadn’t planned on Adam being so stubborn, refusing to follow the path she’d laid out before him. He was a Trickster through and through. She almost laughed at the irony. She needed him to be who he was, but being who he was had forced her to stay too long, too close to the very danger that hunted her, to try to make him take the step towards his destiny.

  Thank the Goddess, the enemy had been distracted by other things as it chased her down and hadn’t seen Adam. The only problem was, now she had to find some way of getting back to him. Of getting him to trust her. However, she couldn’t do that with her enemy so close.

  The moment it turned its attention towards Adam’s soul, all could be lost. Without him, the triad of Skye, Bron and Shelley would not become the triumvirate. And if they didn’t become the triumvirate, they wouldn’t be able to pull on the true power that was theirs, feeding it into the Nexus so she could use the Goddess Stone. It all hinged on Adam doing his part. And it was up to her to ensure he was ready.

  The whirl of sound around her became louder, a heavy thud in her veins, through her heart, pounding into her head. It was pulling on her, making it harder to run, to move. She felt the grasp of its hand reaching out behind her, the swipe of it as it just missed her.

  No! She couldn’t let it touch her now. Not after all this time. It had reached out and snared her sister; destroyed so many good people. They were so close to defeating it now. She couldn’t let it capture her.

  Damnation. There was only one choice. She must return to the light of her Goddess. But if she did so, she would have to bargain something to be allowed to return. Her Goddess would let her come with her blessings if she could—but she did not make the rules.

  What would she be made to forsake this time?

  No matter. There was no time or choice. The pounding of the enemy was too close behind her. She could not escape its hateful maw if she did not do this. She would have to call on the light of her Goddess—the light that would allow her into the home of the gods. The one place the enemy could never go. She’d have to bargain with the guardians to be allowed back, pay them something important to her so they wouldn’t send her back this way, in
to the arms of the enemy, but forge her a new path. Nobody ever said travel through the realms wasn’t without its costs. The guardians, eternal, infernal, had sent many to their deaths, smiles on their faces. She would have to be smarter than them. But that was okay. Her Goddess hadn’t chosen her because she lacked intelligence. She always gave her what she needed to scrape her way through.

  There would be a way, and she’d find it.

  Her heart tightened in her chest, a little twist, anxiety and old grief moving their claws in her flesh, reminding her of all she’d lost. The enemy’s noise was close behind her, deafening now, its malevolence a cold burning pressure. She glanced back, saw its hatred. Its longing. Its putrid jealousy and want and desire. It ebbed towards her, threatening to swallow her whole.

  Useless. Hopeless. Alone. All Alone. Always alone.

  The horrifying whisper was in her ears. All around her. Pulling at her aching heart. She almost stopped. Almost gave herself over to it.

  Her lurching movement made the heavy fist-sized locket she wore swing loose and bang into her chest. It flipped open and the coruscating colours of the Goddess Stone shone over her chest, light illuminating the portrait set into the lid of the container; a portrait of her beloved and her long-lost son.

  The son who lived on in Pack McVale. Her son, whose features lived in the face of the one called River. Whose power called to her in the one called Skye.

  Family. Her family.

  Alone. Always alone.

  No!

  She cried out into the noise of the enemy all around. She shook her head against its invasive hold, putting her hands over her ears, humming inside her mind to shut out the noise that would thread its way through her. She wouldn’t allow the little barbs of its hatred, its evil, putrid need, to let her falter now. She couldn’t let it take her over. Because if it did, it would take over her family and then everything would truly be lost.

  Love. Hope. Friendship. Family.

  All gone.

  No!

  Her plan might not have come to fruition how she’d wanted it to—plans rarely did—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find a way. She’d just have to be cleverer than her enemy. Cleverer than the Guardians of the Hall who found it funny to stand in her way.