Destiny Unchained Read online

  Natalia’s scent was too potent for him to isolate it. Not to mention it seemed to stick to him like static cling.

  “I’ve been following him closely for more than a year. I know his signature well.” Stepping back into the clearing, she scanned the sky again. “That’s why he left me here hanging with dawn approaching.” She narrowed her eyes, her fists clenched – the only sign of anger he’d seen her display.

  “So he was just here? You saw him?”

  She shook her head. “Not him. A few hired idiots. It was my own fault. The meal was far too convenient. I should’ve known.”

  “The meal?”

  With a smirk she looked him in the eye. “The man I drank from.”

  If she thought that would scare him, she was sorely mistaken. He’d seen vampires feed. And he’d already seen her fangs. They didn’t disturb him in the slightest. Actually, his body – specifically the aforementioned raging hard-on – found them enticingly erotic.

  “He’d been poisoned,” she continued. “When I woke up, I was just how you found me.”

  His brow creased. A serial killer and he’d left the hunter alive? Something didn’t add up. “Why didn’t he kill you?”

  Her voice dropped as she stared into the trees. “He’s playing with me.” She swung her gaze back to him and added, “He thinks our cat and mouse game is funny. He won’t think so much longer.”

  There was obsession in her eyes. She wanted the kill too badly. She would do anything for it. And that was a dangerous place to exist.

  That settles it. They would be hunting this slayer together. Sorin would give him hell, but despite the way he found her, the woman was clearly good at her job. And she already knew the Slayer’s signature. She was a valuable asset. And he was going to stick to her like a burr in a wolf’s fur.

  The Northwest pack was his to protect. And from the very first day he reluctantly stepped up to the task, he never failed his duty. The women and children relied on his judgment, his strength, and his loyalty. And not a day went by that he didn’t feel the weight of it. He squared his shoulders and faced the vampire. She would lead him to this threat and he would exterminate it.

  Just a few long strides and he stood in front of her, looming in a way only an alpha could. “You’re going to tell me everything about him. We’ll find him tog –”

  “No. The hunt is mine.” She gave him a stern look. “Just keep protecting your wolves and stay out of this.”

  “The hell I will. This is my territory. No one commits a crime so heinous without involving me. I’m in.” He leaned in so close he could feel her breath on his neck. “If you don’t like it, sweetheart, feel free to leave.”

  He could tell a witty retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she suddenly grasped the sides of her head and hissed in a breath. Her gaze darted nervously to the sky. It was almost dawn.

  “How far to town?” she asked, her voice its usual calm.

  “About ten miles.” He watched the wheels turn in her head, curious what the outcome would be. Would she finally ask for help? A small wrinkle formed between her brows. “Don’t you have a car?”

  “A motorcycle, but he took it. Along with my weapons.” She lowered her shaking hands. “Bastard meant for me to suffer out here.”

  Cristian had seen the effects of the sun on vampires. It wasn’t pretty. The biggest, most bad-ass vampires he’d ever known had crumpled to the ground, screaming in agony. They didn’t burst into flames, but from what he’d been told, it was like being boiled from the inside out. It weakened them, leaving them helpless to defend themselves, a death sentence in the supernatural world.

  His heart thudded in his ears. Though he didn’t understand why, it was imperative he keep her safe. He assured himself it was only because he needed her help catching this killer. “Come to camp with me. I’ll give you new weapons and a place to sleep.”

  “After what I did to your merry men?” She arched a brow, her voice still as cool as her heart. “I can think of better ways to commit suicide.”

  “No one will touch you. I promise.”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t gotten to be as old as I am by trusting just anybody.”

  He pursed his lips, pushing back the impulse to throw her over his shoulder, to hell with her pride. Brute force would not work on a woman like Natalia. “At least let me drive you to town. I can have a jeep here in half an hour.”

  She looked at the ground then to the sky, indecision weighing on her face for a long moment. With a sigh, she gave him a reluctant nod.

  He smiled. Trust. One small step at a time.

  ***

  What am I thinking?

  Trusting a werewolf with her life? The coming sun must’ve scrambled her brain. Unfortunately, she’d dug herself in a hole this time. Literally, since that was her only other option. She could go to ground and cover herself with earth. It wouldn’t be comfortable. She would suffocate and remain unconscious until her supernatural healing surged life back into her. With a deep inhale, she’d choke on a lungful of dirt then suffocate again. The cycle would happen over and over until night approached when she would burst from the ground, weak, but alive. It was a torturous way to spend a day. Slightly more agonizing than putting her safety in the hands of a werewolf.

  Her shoulders slumped under the strain of her aching muscles. Sweat beaded on her brow. Weak as she was, she reminded herself she could still kick the werewolf’s ass. He stared down at her, tall and formidable. Yeah, she could kill him if she had to. Probably. Maybe.

  After commanding her to stay put with the promise he’d be back with a jeep in twenty minutes, he disappeared into the trees.

  She focused on staying upright while she waited for him to return. She fought the urge to flee several times – not that she could’ve gotten far anyway. A short while later, the roar of the jeep’s engine preceded it bursting through the trees. It was a monster. Tires as big as a small child, the rest of it so caked with mud she had no idea the original color of the thing. Cristain jumped out of the passenger side and gestured her inside. He whispered orders to the werewolf who’d been driving it. She tried to eavesdrop. God, her head was pounding! The driver disappeared into the woods and Cristian slid into the car.

  The door slammed and he cursed when she gasped at the noise. “Sorry.”

  He drove like a bat out of hell. Her head banged into the roof as he flew down the rocky trails not meant for monstrous vehicles. But she had to admit, the jeep handled beautifully. How she’d love to take it for a spin.

  She corrected herself immediately. Aren’t planning on seeing him again, are you?

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Motel 6.” Her voice wavered.

  By the time they drove into town, her blood was boiling. Painful knots formed in her stomach. She bent over and bit down on her lip to hold back a scream. She tasted blood. Cristian looked at her then swore again. He shifted to fifth and tore down the streets, weaving around cars with ease. Distantly, she admired his skill.

  He pulled into the motel parking lot, tires screeching. She tried to reach for the door but her limbs were numb. The door flew open and she was cradled in Cristian’s arms. This was bad. Very bad. She attempted to struggle to her feet but could barely move. She was at his mercy in every way. Shoulda opted for the ground.

  At the door, Cristian said, “The key.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him it was in her pocket but nothing came out. This was worse than being found hanging from a tree. At least then she had her voice. He sighed and adjusted his hold, searching her pockets until he found the key card. The door clicked open and he laid her gently on the bed. She watched him close the drapes, shutting all light out of the room. Then he disappeared into the bathroom. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open. A moment later a cold, wet washcloth rested on her forehead.

  The pain eased out of her body until she was left with just a dull ache. She sat up, still dizzy and weak, but his hand on her shoulde
r pushed her back down. He started to remove her boots.

  She jolted upright then winced in pain. “No.”

  Relentlessly, he pushed her back down again. “You’re in no condition to fight me on this, puiule. Just lay back and shut up.” His tone was gentle despite it being nothing less than a command.

  He took off her boots, then her socks. When he went for the waistband of her pants she started to protest.

  “You need to cool down, Natalia,” he interrupted in an unyielding voice. “I’m not going to try anything while you’re lying here sick as a dog.” He ran his gaze over her body. “Though God knows you’re fuckable enough.”

  She wanted to laugh at the irony. Pale, sweating, and face crumpled in pain and he called her fuckable? But he was right. She needed to cool off. And why should she care how he saw her? After today, she’d never see him again anyway. Still, she was glad she didn’t opt for a thong that morning. His expression remained clinical as he pulled off her leather pants. Uneven breaths and stress lines around his eyes told her it took a lot of effort to stay neutral.

  “Now for your jacket.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and eased her up.

  God he smells good. Why did he have to smell so good? “The shirt stays on, werewolf.”

  He pursed his lips but nodded.

  “Thank you,” she told him after he folded her clothes and set them on a chair. “I’m fine now. You can leave.”

  His answering smile was full of determination. “I have no intention of leaving until I know you’re going to be okay.”

  “I believe I just said I was.”

  Ignoring her, he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Natalia.” His voice was a soothing whisper. “A popular Russian name. Are we neighbors, puiule?”

  Neighbors? So he was Romanian. It was one of the only languages she didn’t speak. She’d travelled so extensively the last eight hundred years, she’d lost all traces of her homeland’s accent. And she’d been in America long enough to sound as if she’d grown up there. “I was born long before there was a Russia.”

  “Where?”

  “Castile.” She answered him easily then mentally kicked herself.

  “Spain?”

  She nodded. Her gaze swept up the muscular body taking up half her bed then rested on his eyes. Such a pale blue, like the sky after a rainstorm. And the other warm brown like the craggy rocks of the park he protects.

  “Ah, that explains the dark hair.” He brushed it from her face and held a strand between his fingers. “What about your pale skin?”

  “My mother was Norse.”

  He tucked the stray strand behind her ear and looked deep into her eyes. “You have her eyes?”

  “Yes.” Dark blue, almost navy, almond shaped eyes had caught the attention of more than one man in her long lifetime.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She snorted but it was too weak to have the effect she intended. “A werewolf just called me beautiful. I must be dreaming. I passed out from the sun, didn’t I? I’m probably dying slowly in the woods.”

  He smiled faintly. “You’re not dying, but you could have.” He shifted on the bed, closing the inches between them. His hip touched hers and his face grew stern. “I want you to promise me you won’t face him alone again.”

  “Now I know I’m dreaming. A werewolf trying to tell me what to do? I know you’re not that stupid.”

  Mildly, he told her, “I could stop you.”

  A corner of her mouth turned up. “You could try.”

  Their words were full of challenge, but their voices remained soft. There was an unspoken acknowledgment that they were equal in skill and would most likely kill each other trying to get the upper hand.

  “You’re weak,” he said. “I could tie you up right now. Remove all the metal from the room.”

  She gave him a look. “You can’t be stupid enough to think that would work.”

  He chuckled. “You have a knack for escaping tight situations, don’t you? Did you study with Houdini himself?”

  Actually, she could’ve taught him a thing or two.

  “All right.” He rose from the bed. “If you’re determined to get yourself killed, I won’t stand in your way. But when you suck up your pride and want to get the job done, let me know.”

  Not gonna happen.

  “For now, sleep.”

  She smiled as her eyelids grew heavy. “Still trying to tell me what to do, werewolf?”

  “It’s in my nature.” He tucked the sheet around her. “Rest. You’re safe here.”

  She fell asleep wondering why the hell she actually believed him.

  Chapter 6

  What the fuck are you doing, Cristian?

  He’d just called her, puiule, a Romanian term of endearment. And why? Because she intrigued him? Because she was the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen, with her rich, dark hair streaked with red highlights that he’d love to see lit up by the sun? But a creature was the proper term for what she was. A vampire. An enemy of his pack.

  Her chest rose and fell in a lulling rhythm. Laid out half-naked and asleep on the bed, she didn’t look like a vampire assassin. With soft, creamy skin, thick eyelashes, and full blood red lips, she was as feminine as his Laurel was.

  What had turned this blue-eyed beauty into such a self-controlled killing machine? It piqued his curiosity. His wolf nature demanded he figure her out.

  He couldn’t deny taking a perverse pleasure in their fiery challenges. If he were being honest with himself, he’d acknowledge that though he loved Laurel with all his heart – and the universe had chosen them as mates – she wasn’t a good partner for an alpha. Of course, he wouldn’t be alpha if it weren’t for her death. Or would he? At first he’d been a reluctant alpha, only the circumstances of the moment giving him that role. But as the time passed, he saw how naturally others followed him. And how natural it felt to lead.

  Cristian placed a hand over Natalia’s chest, focusing on her heartbeat. Slow and steady. She would be fine. And he had business to attend to. With a last glance around the room, he scribbled a note then walked out into the chilly night air. He jumped in his jeep and cranked the heat up to high.

  A strange feeling hit him deep in his gut. Fear. He sucked in a breath. He was afraid for Natalia. If this werewolf was playing with her, and he’d already captured her once, what would happen if he did again? Visions of Natalia strung up, gutted, tortured, flooded his mind. He shook his head, forcing them away. What business was it of his what she did with her life? He would follow her closely, for now. He would use her skill and knowledge to kill the bastard stalking his territory. When the task was done, he wouldn’t think of her again. She was a puzzle, yes, but not his to solve. Not his to protect.

  He shifted in his seat. His muscles twitched, unsettled about the Slayer, confused about his feelings for Natalia. He needed to run. Tires screeched as he spun the jeep around and headed the opposite direction toward one of his favorite spots to let loose some steam.

  This wasn’t the first time he pondered how Laurel’s death tied into who he was meant to be. If he even believed in fate and destiny and all that shit. He wasn’t convinced he did. The supernatural world was full of mysticism and mumbo-jumbo. Having been raised by a traditional Orthodox Christian mother outside of a pack, his views differed from his counterparts. Though she was a werewolf, she’d lost the ability to shift after becoming pregnant. Still, she helped him through his first change when he hit puberty. His human father died in one of the many wars that plagued Eastern Europe when Cristian was young. At age thirteen his mother sent him to live with his father’s brother to learn the blacksmith trade. Though his uncle wasn’t a werewolf, he taught Cristian how to be a man.

  When he died Cristian mourned the loss almost as much as he’d mourned Laurel’s. After a few years of wandering among his uncle’s human clan, he found he needed a pack to belong to. Like most werewolves, he craved organization, family, hierarchy. The werewolf population w
as booming in Romania at that time. It wasn’t hard to find a pack that would accept him – a strong young wolf with skill in blacksmithing.

  Now, three centuries later, he could recognize Laurel’s death for what it was. Escape from a life not meant for her. Could it be that fate, or destiny or God or the fucking confusing-as-hell universe, had someone else in mind for the mate of an alpha? Any one of his pack members would die for him – and wasn’t that a messed up truth – yet he’d been battling feelings of loneliness for the past few decades. Funny how isolated he felt while being surrounded by people who respected him. But love and respect were not the same. He longed for someone to know him intimately, even his weaknesses and flaws. As Sorin reminded him countless times, he could never appear weak. It’d grown into such a burden he could hardly bear it any longer.

  And Laurel…they’d been mates, yes, and their bodies and souls cried out for one another. But even she had needed his strength. Not only because she’d been a born submissive, passive and dainty, but in those times, women depended on men for everything, including their survival.

  He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t have to be big, bad protector. Or passed off some of the responsibility to an equal, someone who wouldn’t stab him in the back for pack rank. Sorin was the closest he had to a true friend. He understood Cristian like no one else and Cristian trusted him with his life. But he was a born beta, and a political mastermind at that. He would never accept the share of power Cristian wished he could develop with someone.

  His jeep bumped down the dirt road leading to one of his favorite places in the park. The tourists flocked to the geysers – with good cause – but it was the smaller things he found beauty in. In the backwoods, farther than roads and trails dared to go, beyond the polluted air and noise, was where the night came alive with a wildness that both calmed and excited him. That was where the magic took place. And damn him for wanting to share it with a certain headstrong vampire.

  Chapter 7