Chapter Three

Emily was doomed. She was aware of the fact with a quiet acceptance, and surprisingly enough, it left her with no fear. The man who'd grabbed her when she managed to get into the room with Amber was named Brian. He was the one she'd followed here, to her place of doom.

He was also the one who held her now, and had pulled her so close to his face, the acrid stench of his unwashed body and bacteria-laden breath assaulted her nose. She met his turbulent gaze levelly, refusing to be cowed by him. If she was to die at his hands, she'd do it with a brave face.

If she had just a pinch more courage, she would have spit at him. But evidently, her courage tapped out after one yell of 'let me go'. Now the best she could manage was a level stare.              

Oh well, she decided. At least he wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing her crumble at his feet in terror. It may have been a minor victory, but a victory, nonetheless.

A sound from beside them changed everything. The back door flew open with enough force to slam into the wall with an ear-splitting crash. The only light in the room was a bare bulb hanging from its electric wires, and it was sent swinging, throwing dancing shadows across everything.

Emily's attention snapped over to see what the commotion was, and she found two men standing the doorway, framed by the aged wood. At first, she could only make out their silhouettes in the darkness, and a hint of features as the light swung their way. Then they moved more fully into the room, and she got a clear view of them.

One was very nice-looking with long blondish hair caught up at the nape of his neck. The other one was the most striking man she'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was inky black and cropped in a short, careless style. His face was rugged and strong with a long, straight nose over his wide slash of lips. His eyes were an amazing shade of gold, and just now they sparkled with the dark promise of death.  

Almost too fast to follow his movements, the dark-haired man crossed the room with its crumbling plaster walls and stood behind the wolf with two curved, ornate hand sickles already in his hands. The soft ringing of metal resounded as he swung with expert precision, not even brushing her hair with his blades while he decapitated her tormenter.

The head that had just been level with hers went one direction, while the hands gripping her arms fell away and the body toppled to the floor on her other side. Her mouth fell open in stunned horror, then clamped firmly shut again as she was sprayed with blood.  

William’s blind rage dissipated almost immediately when he gazed into her wide eyes, as purple as the dawn. Her face, now splattered with blood, was paralyzed in shock, but she was perfect, just the same.

In an instant, the beast relinquished control. For the first time in his entire life, it seemed to sleep, leaving him with a feeling of control and calm serenity. Everything in the world was right, and there was nothing but the two of them, frozen in a timeless moment. It could have been seconds or hours. He stared at her in awe, both amazed and confused by his reaction to her.

He could smell the level of her fear, but until he killed the werewolf, she’d shown no outward sign of it. Almost like it was a normal thing for a human—and his nose told him she was human—to be standing in the middle of a houseful of monsters under a full moon.

Yep, just another mundane day.

Her features were gentle, with high cheeks and a small nose with a slight curve at the tip, set above a perfectly bow-shaped pair of lush, full lips. Her square chin jutted defiantly forward, despite the situation and the fear she couldn't hide from his astute nose. With her exotic eyes and the wavy dark hair that bounced halfway down her back, she looked almost like a vampire herself.

“William, we're not alone in here,” Paoli's voice intruded, pulling William's attention to the werewolves pouring in from three doorways to partially surround them. Paoli pulled his blade, clearly prepared to fight their way out.

William groaned inwardly. There was only one reason the wolves would have abandoned a hunt and returned together. The newly decapitated man must have been their alpha.

Of course he was, he thought wryly.

They were going to have a hard time explaining that one later. If, that was, they survived for there to be a later.

“William!” Paoli barked sharply when William remained still. There was a small swishing sound as Paoli's small sword found its mark on the first wolf to rush him.

It was the slight edge in Paoli's voice that finally snapped William back to himself. In one swift movement, he stepped protectively in front of Paoli and the girl. He swung first one blade, then the other with almost lightning speed and the deadly accuracy of centuries of experience. One werewolf fell at his feet, not yet dead, but mortally wounded from the gaping hole in his throat. The other took the bite of his blade and spun away, splashing both William and the wall with blood before he slid to the rickety wooden floor and was silent. 

Still more wolves kept coming, and William realized they were about to be too outnumbered to hold their ground.

For just a second, he stood completely motionless in the chaos and closed his eyes to feel the energy of those in the room. Most of the wolves were new and weak, with a few dominants scattered in the mix. None anywhere near as dominant as he. Then again, he had yet to encounter one who was.

"Paoli, bring the girl," he commanded, his voice already low and rough with the stress of the coming change.

Then he burst free of his human form. In a flash, he practically exploded. He went from being a man to a gray wolf about half the size of a small car. His massive form filled the room, and his sheer power sizzled like electricity, making the air feel heavy and charged.

One by one, the werewolves backed up nervously, and a few bowed their heads slightly in a classic submissive pose.

William held his head low, long teeth bared. A deep, continuous growl rumbled from his chest.

A warning.

A challenge.

He maintained eye contact with the other wolves in turn, forcing them to feel the power of his dominance. His sheer will, and his willingness to kill them all.               

"He's a werewolf?" Emily gasped incredulously, staring at the biggest furred creature she'd ever seen. She wasn't sure why it hit her with such shock, all things considered, but she hadn't been prepared for that. Something in his eyes when he'd looked at her made her think he was the good guy. Not another monster. But she was seeing the truth for herself, and it made her feel almost betrayed, somehow.

"Nothing so simple," the blond man said. He gave her a friendly smile and held his hand out in an old-fashioned gesture, as though helping a lady of old into a carriage. "Shall we?"

She hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand without making a move to take it. Her eyes darted back and forth between him, the giant wolf, and their surroundings. Monsters or not, these two were definitely a better gamble than her current circumstances. Still, she'd come here for a reason. She wasn't about to leave without Amber now.

"I can't leave without my sister," she said finally, the slightest crack in her voice.

He stared at her blankly. "Excuse me?" he said in disbelief, as though he may have heard her wrong.

"I'm not leaving this house without my sister," she repeated with more force, squaring her shoulders mutinously.  

"This really isn't a good time for negotiation." He waved an arm pointedly to encompass the room and all its inhabitants.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. She really was. But there was no way she could walk away and leave Amber to her fate. "I'm not trying to be difficult. But I can't leave without her," she said.

She didn't know what she'd do if he shrugged and wished her the best. But, if she left with them and didn't take Amber, the guilt would eat her alive.

After staring at her another minute, he finally closed his eyes and gave an exasperated groan. "Where is she?" he asked in a resigned tone, as though doing so caused him physical pain.

Emily's heart gave an excited leap at the surrender in his voice. She turned toward the room at her back. "In here," she said, leading him through the doorway.

He followed her closely but stopped short when they entered the room. It was small, lit only by the streaks of moonlight through the window, and was empty except for the narrow bed in the corner.

Lying atop the blankets was Amber, flashing back and forth between human and wolf forms. For a split second, she was in human form and would let out a soft cry, then the sound merged with an animal whine as she shifted to wolf, almost like she was short-circuiting. 

The man watched in silence for a while, his expression horrified. "She's condemned," he said finally, his voice apologetic. "There must be a way to help her," Emily said, her voice edged with desperation she couldn't quite banish.

"It doesn't matter. She's marked for execution," he said. He produced a small dagger and stepped toward the bed. Moonlight spilled across the blade and made it clear what he planned.

"No!" Emily cried, putting herself between him and Amber. Her heart was in her throat, and her gaze flicked back and forth between his face and the knife in his hand.

He stopped and looked at her, a note of impatience in his eyes. "He can't hold them forever," he said, jerking his head toward the door, indicating the power play in the next room. "Time is of the essence."

Impotent tears sprang to Emily's eyes, but she ignored them. She met his gaze unwaveringly. "I didn't come here tonight to watch her die. I won't let you hurt her," she said. Even with the tears in her eyes, her voice was level and determined. "Please," she added with a touch of desperation. "She's my sister."  

“An order was given against her life,” he pointed out reasonably. “Besides, look at her. She's in pain.” His voice was gentle and persuasive. 

“I won't accept her death. Not after…" Emily's words trailed off and she took a deep, steadying breath. Not when she was this close to saving her after so much time. "There has to be a way to fix it. Please help me get her out of here.” She paused, then added, “alive.”

The growl in the next room grew stronger and more dangerous, which seemed to make up his mind. "You can take this up with William," he said. He sheathed his knife irritably, then crossed the room with quick strides. "There's no time to spend arguing with you," he said. He lifted Amber from the bed in one arm.

Emily breathed a sigh of relief, but he strode past her and toward the door with a doubtful shake of his head. "Let's see if you think it's such a good thing after you face him on this," he warned darkly.

Back in the main room, the wolves continued to ring the huge one in the center, but they didn't appear any closer to him than when they'd left.

Emily watched as the man carried Amber to the large wolf and threw her across his broad back. When the wolf rewarded him with a low growl, he growled back in clear frustration. "The other one wouldn't come without her," he snapped. "And I'm not getting in the middle of this."

Emily stiffened her spine while he got Amber situated, and made her way along the wall to the dead man on the floor, keeping her eyes firmly on the wolves. Her gun protruded from the waistband of the dead man's pants, and she wanted it back. With everything happening around her, she had a feeling it would come in handy.

Careful not to look at the gory stump where his head should have been, she knelt down beside the body. Her face twisted in a grimace, she pulled the gun free and stuffed it into her own waistband. She tried to hide a shudder when she got back to her feet and headed toward the others, careful not to move too fast and look like she was fleeing. 

"Don't fire that gun in here. The sound will deafen him," the man cautioned when she stepped beside him.

She started to nod in understanding, but without so much as a warning, he threw her atop the wolf's broad back behind Amber, a bit unceremoniously. She grabbed at the fur to keep from flying off the other side and threw him a dirty look, which he ignored. "Sorry," she whispered into the nearest furry ear, then scooted up as far as she could manage to make room for the man.

He gave her a slight smile and shook his head. "I have my own way," he said cryptically. "Just don't be afraid of me. If it bothers you, don't look."

With those words, he seemed to dissolve into a thick stack of black fog. His face peered from the center and took on a horrifying, almost demonic appearance, with glowing red eyes and elongated features made of the same fog. Emily opened her mouth in a silent scream, but the only sound that emerged was an almost inaudible squeak. "Don't look," he commanded, his voice sounding like a haunted howl of wind. "Hold on tight," he instructed as the group barreled through the line of werewolves and into the night.