She saw his dark hair first. Thick and a little too long. Then her gaze fell to his strong cheekbones, knife sharp. She recognized the hard blade of his nose, but his eyes were closed, so she didn’t see his normally bright blue stare.
"Damon?"
“Get back,” Patrick ordered the other agents as he lifted his hands. “Clear the room so she can work!” Then Patrick’s fingers curled around her elbow, and he leaned in close to her. His voice lowered as he whispered, “You keep him sane.” An order. Or a plea?
She stared down at Damon’s powerful body. Blood was all over him. Already drying on his ripped clothes. On his neck. His arms. But even as she stared at him, the long, thick gashes on his body were closing before her eyes.
Werewolf healing. That was some kind of magic.
“He’s going to be very strong,” Patrick murmured the soft words just for her ears. The other agents had already backed up. Backed up, but she noticed that Damon’s partner, Eli, still had his gun out.
And aimed at Damon’s unconscious body.
She moved her own body a few inches, deliberately putting herself in the line of fire. "You aren’t shooting him!"
“We can use him,” Patrick said, his body brushing against hers. “If we can control him, then this could be our chance.”
This wasn’t a chance. It was a man’s life.
She reached out her hand to touch Damon’s skin. Even through her latex glove, she could feel the heat pouring off his body.
“Clear the room!” Patrick snarled again. Because the other agents were lingering. She didn’t blame them. One of their own had just been taken down in a way that was no doubt a nightmare fear for them all.
“But, sir…” Eli stepped forward. And he still had his gun out. “He’s too dangerous to leave alone with her! He could attack—”
Patrick’s shaking head stopped his words. “He’s not going to wake up for hours. And by then, he’ll be collared.”
Collared. When werewolves were brought in for containment at the facility, the first order of business was always to suit them up with a silver collar. The collar controlled them. Kept them in check every moment. If the werewolves tried to attack anyone, then silver was automatically released from those collars and injected into their blood via tiny needles.
The collars themselves were unbreakable, mostly because they were made of silver, and no werewolf had ever been strong enough to fight the silver and escape.
The old story about silver being the weakness of the wolf? Luckily for humans, that story had turned out to be true. If the werewolves hadn’t been given some sort of weakness, the humans would be screwed.
But the idea of Damon…collared like that…
Her back teeth clenched.
“He doesn’t want this,” Eli shouted. That gun needed to be holstered. She was about to do it for him.
“Right now, the man doesn’t know what he wants!” Patrick threw back. Hellen knew Patrick wouldn’t back down. He never did. “Now, Agent, I’m ordering you to stand down. This isn’t your call. And it isn’t his, either.”
Because once you joined the Para Unit, your life wasn’t exactly your own any longer.
Swearing, Eli holstered his weapon. Finally. Then he turned on his heel and hurried from the room. The double doors swung shut behind him.
Hellen forced herself to take in a deep breath. Damon had been viciously attacked, and now, to come back as a werewolf? Patrick had taken risks before with his agents, but there had never been a case like this.
“He’s going to be an alpha,” Patrick whispered, staying close to her so his words wouldn’t carry far. She knew the other agents were waiting just outside of the medical wing. “I can tell by the speed of his healing. Hell, the guy was already starting to shift at the scene. We had to dose him three times just to stop the change.”
Three times? She’d been the one to brew that drug. Hellen knew it was powerful. One dose should have been more than enough to put Damon out.
The doors to her medical wing flew open again, and she jerked. Eli—coming back? What the hell?
His cheeks were flushed. His blond hair was mussed. He pointed toward Hellen. “She’s going to need a guard in here with her!” Elias called out. “The doc won’t be able to handle him.”
Shawn August grabbed the guy and tried to yank him back. Eli didn’t appear in the mood to be yanked.
Patrick exhaled slowly. “After Damon has the collar on, she’ll be able to control him.” Then Patrick pointed to Shawn. “August, you stay in here and keep an eye on Hellen until she has Damon secure.”
Shawn, not Eli. Very good choice.
Shawn shoved Eli back of the room, and then he stood there, near the door, with his watchful brown gaze locked on Damon’s body.
Patrick made no move to leave, not yet. “Check him out, top to bottom. Get blood work. Run your tests. Every test you can think of.”
Tests that would show them all just how deadly Duncan would become.
She nodded and met Patrick’s stare. “If he—if he proves to be too much of a threat?” Because she’d seen werewolves who had no sense of humanity left in them. Beasts that couldn’t be controlled or contained. They’d all seen wolves like that. In her experience, those recently bitten were the worst.
The most dangerous.
“Then you stop him.” She noticed the emphasis he put on his command. “But that’s a last resort. I don’t want to lose him. We need him, Hellen. We need what he’ll become.”
Because while the other agents thought that Patrick was just a suit who never got his hands dirty, she knew better. Pate had been chosen to lead the West Coast Para Unit because he knew all about the dark side of life.
And he also believed that the best way to fight a monster was…with a monster.
That was why she was there.
“Do whatever you have to do, but make sure Damon Hunt survives.” Then Patrick was backing away. He crossed to Shawn’s side, whispered to the agent, and after a moment, the swinging doors to the med room closed behind Pate.
She didn’t move from her position near Damon. He’d always made her nervous. Too aware.
She put on her stethoscope. Bent to listen to his heartbeat. So fast. Not weak, the way it should have been considering the number of drugs in his system. Damon’s heartbeat was thundering at a frantic rate.
The transformation.
Hellen had been hired to be the personal physician for the agents in the Para Unit. When you went out and fought monsters, you could return with some rather…unusual wounds. Instead of explaining vamp bites and shifter claw marks to the local hospital staff, Patrick had wanted her to take care of his men and women.
He’d also wanted her to study the prisoners in containment.Two reasons to bring her in. There were more reasons, of course, there always were. But those were the two he’d used to the CIA Brass.And, since she’d owed Patrick far more than she could ever repay, it wasn’t like Hellen had been given much of a choice in taking the job.No, she’d lost that whole choice option a year ago. When she’d lost her life.Carefully now, she lifted one of Damon’s eyelids. She was about to shine her light on his eye when she realized—No need for light.His eye was shining on its own. The blue had lit up, streaking with gold. Already a werewolf’s sight. A werewolf’s vision was ten times better than a human’s during the day, and at night, werewolves could see in the darkness. All of a werewolf’s senses were enhanced. Incredibly amped.She backed away from him a bit. Her gaze scanned over his body. So much blood. Her nostrils flared a bit at the scent. Considering the damage he’d sustained, it was amaz
“Dr. Young!” Shawn’s horrified voice cut through the cloud of lust.Shawn. And, just like that, Hellen didn’t have to worry about breaking free of Damon’s grip. Because of the other man’s shout, Damon pushed her away from him and leapt from the table.Then he went after Shawn. With claws stretching from the tips of his fingers and with a snarl on his lips, Duncan launched at the other man.“No!” Hellen screamed.But Damon didn’t stop. Shawn had the silver collar in his hands, and he’d holstered his weapon, so he had to drop the collar before he could arm himself.The collar hit the floor, and Shawn didn’t move fast enough to draw out his weapon.Damon’s right hand wrapped around Shawn’s throat. He lifted the agent up into the air. Shawn’s feet dangled, and he tried to choke out some speech.We are so screwed. She’d been right earlier. “Damon! Let him go!” Hellen screamed. He hadn’t hurt her, but it certainly looked like he was ready to introduce Shawn to a whole world of pain.Wolves
Special Agent Damon Hunt raced around the street corner, chasing his prey even as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Damon’s partner, Eli Blank, was just steps behind him. No damn way were they letting the killer escape.The twisted bastard had already murdered four women in Arcadia Bay. Slashed their bodies. Torn out their throats. This nightmare was ending.Damon would make it end.The perp rushed into an alley."Dead end, ass**le."The killer didn’t know the city, as well as Damon, did.His hold tightened on his weapon, and he leapt right into the entrance of that narrow alleyway. “Freeze!” Damon roared. “I said Freeze!”The perp—a man with long, shaggy, blond hair—was facing the brick wall that ended the alley. At Damon’s shout, the man did freeze, for all of about twenty seconds. Then he started laughing as he spun to face Damon and Eli.“You humans are so out of your league,” the blond snarled. His hands were up, and, as Damon watched, the guy’s nails began to transform—Into
Eli shook his head. The lines on his face deepened even more.“Get him to the containment facility,” a hard voice ordered.Whoa…what? Containment? Containment was where his team—the Arcadia division of the CIA’s not-supposed-to-exist Para Unit—sent their captured shifters and vampires for temporary holding. He wasn’t a prisoner. He was one of the good guys.Damon tried to lift his head. On the second attempt, he actually succeeded, and it was then that he saw the face of his boss, Patrick MC'cain, come into focus. “I’m sorry,” Patrick said, and he actually sounded like he was, odd for the usually emotionless director, “but we don’t have an option.”Damon jerked at the bonds holding him down. The other agents had strapped him to a gurney and were wheeling him toward a waiting ambulance.“You were bitten by the suspect.” Real regret tinged Patrick’s voice. “You know what that means.”Bitten. No. The f**k, no. “Kill me,” Damon snapped. Because there was no way he’d become a monster. The
“Dr. Young!” Shawn’s horrified voice cut through the cloud of lust.Shawn. And, just like that, Hellen didn’t have to worry about breaking free of Damon’s grip. Because of the other man’s shout, Damon pushed her away from him and leapt from the table.Then he went after Shawn. With claws stretching from the tips of his fingers and with a snarl on his lips, Duncan launched at the other man.“No!” Hellen screamed.But Damon didn’t stop. Shawn had the silver collar in his hands, and he’d holstered his weapon, so he had to drop the collar before he could arm himself.The collar hit the floor, and Shawn didn’t move fast enough to draw out his weapon.Damon’s right hand wrapped around Shawn’s throat. He lifted the agent up into the air. Shawn’s feet dangled, and he tried to choke out some speech.We are so screwed. She’d been right earlier. “Damon! Let him go!” Hellen screamed. He hadn’t hurt her, but it certainly looked like he was ready to introduce Shawn to a whole world of pain.Wolves
He’d also wanted her to study the prisoners in containment.Two reasons to bring her in. There were more reasons, of course, there always were. But those were the two he’d used to the CIA Brass.And, since she’d owed Patrick far more than she could ever repay, it wasn’t like Hellen had been given much of a choice in taking the job.No, she’d lost that whole choice option a year ago. When she’d lost her life.Carefully now, she lifted one of Damon’s eyelids. She was about to shine her light on his eye when she realized—No need for light.His eye was shining on its own. The blue had lit up, streaking with gold. Already a werewolf’s sight. A werewolf’s vision was ten times better than a human’s during the day, and at night, werewolves could see in the darkness. All of a werewolf’s senses were enhanced. Incredibly amped.She backed away from him a bit. Her gaze scanned over his body. So much blood. Her nostrils flared a bit at the scent. Considering the damage he’d sustained, it was amaz
She saw his dark hair first. Thick and a little too long. Then her gaze fell to his strong cheekbones, knife sharp. She recognized the hard blade of his nose, but his eyes were closed, so she didn’t see his normally bright blue stare."Damon?"“Get back,” Patrick ordered the other agents as he lifted his hands. “Clear the room so she can work!” Then Patrick’s fingers curled around her elbow, and he leaned in close to her. His voice lowered as he whispered, “You keep him sane.” An order. Or a plea?She stared down at Damon’s powerful body. Blood was all over him. Already drying on his ripped clothes. On his neck. His arms. But even as she stared at him, the long, thick gashes on his body were closing before her eyes.Werewolf healing. That was some kind of magic.“He’s going to be very strong,” Patrick murmured the soft words just for her ears. The other agents had already backed up. Backed up, but she noticed that Damon’s partner, Eli, still had his gun out.And aimed at Damon’s uncon
Eli shook his head. The lines on his face deepened even more.“Get him to the containment facility,” a hard voice ordered.Whoa…what? Containment? Containment was where his team—the Arcadia division of the CIA’s not-supposed-to-exist Para Unit—sent their captured shifters and vampires for temporary holding. He wasn’t a prisoner. He was one of the good guys.Damon tried to lift his head. On the second attempt, he actually succeeded, and it was then that he saw the face of his boss, Patrick MC'cain, come into focus. “I’m sorry,” Patrick said, and he actually sounded like he was, odd for the usually emotionless director, “but we don’t have an option.”Damon jerked at the bonds holding him down. The other agents had strapped him to a gurney and were wheeling him toward a waiting ambulance.“You were bitten by the suspect.” Real regret tinged Patrick’s voice. “You know what that means.”Bitten. No. The f**k, no. “Kill me,” Damon snapped. Because there was no way he’d become a monster. The
Special Agent Damon Hunt raced around the street corner, chasing his prey even as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Damon’s partner, Eli Blank, was just steps behind him. No damn way were they letting the killer escape.The twisted bastard had already murdered four women in Arcadia Bay. Slashed their bodies. Torn out their throats. This nightmare was ending.Damon would make it end.The perp rushed into an alley."Dead end, ass**le."The killer didn’t know the city, as well as Damon, did.His hold tightened on his weapon, and he leapt right into the entrance of that narrow alleyway. “Freeze!” Damon roared. “I said Freeze!”The perp—a man with long, shaggy, blond hair—was facing the brick wall that ended the alley. At Damon’s shout, the man did freeze, for all of about twenty seconds. Then he started laughing as he spun to face Damon and Eli.“You humans are so out of your league,” the blond snarled. His hands were up, and, as Damon watched, the guy’s nails began to transform—Into