The Unforgettable Wolf
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It was not an easy thing to explain. He had to decapitate this werewolf while the moon was still full, or his job was only half-done. The silver bullet had stopped his heart, but Nate had to be sure he couldn’t rise again. Legend was divided on this issue. Some believed that decapitation was the only way to finally lay the tortured soul to rest. Others felt it was overkill. There were no examples that he could find for what happened if someone left the werewolf’s body intact. Preferring to leave nothing to chance, Nate went for decapitation. And, since he had to be on a flight to London in a few hours, he had to do it here and now.
What sort of bad luck was this? Okay, the circumstances of their meeting weren’t ideal, but for the first time in as long as he could remember, Nate felt a tug of attraction toward a woman. More than a tug, if he was honest. What he was about to do next would kill any reciprocal feelings stone dead.
The woman, who was gazing at him with huge, troubled eyes, was about to get a live demonstration of the messy side of werewolf hunting. He ran a hand through his hair, wondering if there was any way to make what he was about to do sound acceptable to her. He was never going to see her again after tonight, but the idea of figuring in her nightmares for the rest of her life didn’t fit comfortably with him.
He tried for a soothing opening sentence. “This is not an ordinary wolf.”
“It is very big.” Her voice was wary. Clearly she was wondering where this was going. And whether she was humoring a madman.
“He’s a werewolf.” There. He’d said it. She hadn’t run away screaming. But that might have more to do with her head injury than her acceptance of his sanity.
In the moonlight, he couldn’t see the color of her eyes. He saw only the sweep of her long, dark lashes as they came down and rested on her pale cheeks before lifting slowly. “What do you have to do to him?”
“I have to cut off his head.”
The gulping sound she made as she swallowed echoed in the silent forest. “I can’t watch that.”
Nate nodded grimly. “I’ll tell you when I’m done.”
She kept her eyes closed, leaning back against the tree. Nate worked swiftly. Although he’d lost track of how many times he’d done this over the years, he had developed a routine. It might not suit the purists who first devised these ancient rites, but it worked for him. Kneeling beside the body of the werewolf, he bent his head. Prayer wasn’t appropriate. He didn’t know this young man. Didn’t know his background, his beliefs or his culture. It didn’t matter. A werewolf was a creature of darkness. If this man had worshipped a deity before his transformation, his allegiances would have changed once he became feral. But something was needed. Some acknowledgment of who he had been, a recognition that he would die alone, that his family would never know what had become of him.
Nate owed this unknown man something. It was a duty. Just as Stella, when she laid her hands on Nate six years ago, had felt a different sort of obligation to him. Nate wasn’t a necromancer. He couldn’t bring this guy back to life the way Stella had with him. Even if he had that choice, he wasn’t sure, knowing what he did, that he would exert it. No, his ritual was simple. He murmured a few words, lines from a poem he’d once heard, to ease the dead on their way.
The samurai sword, with its curved blade, worked best. He’d tried others, but always returned to this. Raising it high above his head, ignoring the awful silver stench, he brought it down in a single, swift stroke. The sound of the blade slicing through flesh and bone never failed to sicken him. Usually one blow was all it took. This time, clouds had obscured the moon at the crucial moment, and his aim was not true. Cursing his bad luck, he aimed the sword at the werewolf’s neck a second time and finished the job.
And, just like that, the wolf was gone. In his place, the body of a slender young man lay curled on his side.
“At peace now.” Nate said the words quietly. Sadly. Although whether the sadness was for the werewolf or for himself, he was never quite sure. Because Nate himself sure as hell wasn’t at peace.
His voice must have attracted the woman’s attention. Her gasp shattered the stillness of the forest before her hand flew to cover her mouth. Those huge eyes met Nate’s across the few feet separating them.
He experienced an overwhelming impulse to go to her and draw her into his arms. After so many years of believing he wasn’t capable of feeling attraction, it was as if the floodgates to his emotions had been opened in spectacular style.
He tried telling himself it was the strange circumstances that had him enthralled, but it didn’t seem to be working. He was fascinated by this woman he had only just met, drawn to her in a way he didn’t understand. He got a grip on the impulse to go to her, telling himself she had been through enough without the uninvited embrace of a stranger.
“It was true. He was a werewolf. When you said ‘among other things,’ you meant he was going to rape me before he killed me, didn’t you?” There was still a trace of incredulity in her voice, but there was no longer any fear.
“The poor bastard will have had the urges of both man and wolf, with no way of controlling either.” He became brisk again. “And now I have to bury him.”
The ground was damp, and Nate was able to dig a grave quickly. He was worried about the woman. Although she was a complication he could have done without, she had become his responsibility as soon as he had rescued her. Leaving her standing around injured and half-naked while he completed this task didn’t seem like the behavior of a hero. He almost laughed out loud at the idea of himself in that role.
Of the five band members, Nate was the one labeled by the press as “the shy one” or “the quiet one.” He was the one who didn’t do relationships. He was the one most likely to be tucked up in bed with a good book while the others were out raising hell. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even talked to a woman. Heroic? He wouldn’t know where to start.
When he’d finished burying the body, he came back to the woman, wiping his hands on his jeans. His thoughts were focused on the problem of how to get her to safety. If that house on the edge of the forest was the scene of a werewolf get-together, the last thing he wanted to do was walk in there. But if it was where she had come from, he needed to return her to her friends. Was she a werewolf? If she had come from that party, it seemed likely she was. None of my business. He’d pledged to get her to safety, not judge her.
What if she’s not a werewolf? What if you walk into that house with her and they have no idea who she is? A darker scenario presented itself. What if they say they know her, but it’s a lie? He had no reason to suppose the werewolves at that party were not law-abiding citizens. Most werewolves in the mortal realm were. But this woman was alone, vulnerable and...well, she was fucking gorgeous. What if they welcomed her with open arms because they had plans for her that were similar to the feral werewolf’s intentions?
No, there was no alternative. Nate Zilar, celebrity by day, werewolf hunter by night, was going to have to walk into a house full of werewolves. He had cast himself in the role of hero, and now he had to live up to it. He was going to make damn sure this woman was safe before he left her anywhere.
Chapter 3
She was conscious of so many things as they approached the house where the party was taking place. How much her head hurt. The cold flesh of her legs. How her bare feet were scratched and muddy. She wore Nate’s sweatshirt with nothing underneath it. If it wasn’t for his strong arm around her waist holding her up, she’d have fallen several times.
Oh, and this man she was trusting? He’d killed a werewolf back there in the depths of the forest. Sliced its head right off and buried the human remains like it was part of his everyday routine. And she had stood by and watched. Not the decapitation, but the aftermath. As if what he did was normal. I might not know who I am, but part of me feels I should not be okay with this. Yet she was wrapped in a surreal bubble where everything else was gauzy and his protective presence was all that mattered.
Although she couldn’t see Nate clearly in the darkness, she got the impression of power and energy. The moonlight gave her glimpses of strong features and dark coloring. Those things meant he was an attractive man, but they didn’t explain the instantaneous connection she felt to him. He rescued you from a wolf. Of course that meant there was a connection. But it was more than that. It had been a bright, instant flame, sizzling the air between them. And it showed no sign of subsiding.
Overriding everything else was a hazy sense of something she could barely describe. Of not belonging. Of being in the wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything. Her hurt head tried to tell her what it was. Or maybe her hurt head was the problem.
“I can’t just walk in there.” She indicated the sweatshirt that barely reached the top of her thighs. “What if they don’t know me?”
“Don’t worry. I’m going ahead of you.”
She wished she could get a proper look at him in the moonlight. Something flashed through her mind. Something about prospects. About what the word really meant. How having prospects wasn’t about power and wealth, it was about how well a man would take care of you. It was a fleeting thought, gone almost as soon as it appeared.
They were in the backyard of the house now, and she could see a few people nearby standing around drinking and talking. On the immediate edge of the yard, where it joined the forest, a group of three young men appeared to be attempting to restrain someone.
“Roko, wait here. This could be a trap.” The man spoke in an urgent tone.
“Too right it could.” The response was panicky, almost terrified. “You know what he’s capable of, Teo. He could have snatched her from under my nose.”
Nate moved forward. “Wait here.” He motioned her to step back into the shadows.
It was too late. The man called Roko had already caught sight of her. Breaking free of his friends, he started toward her. “Violet! What the fuck...?”
She frowned. Surely she would remember this man if she knew him. He was very handsome. As he reached her, Roko made a grab for her hands. She shrank away from him in alarm, moving instinctively toward Nate.
Nate positioned himself between them. “Who are you?”
Roko bristled. He scanned her face, his expression changing, becoming even more annoyed. “This is a joke, right? Tell this guy to butt out.”
As he spoke, something was happening inside the house. There were shouts, crashes and sounds of glass breaking. Looking up, she saw what looked like a dozen people erupting from the house into the yard. They appeared to be running from something.
Roko turned to his friends. “You said we’d be safe. You promised they wouldn’t find us here.”
As he spoke, he gave a signal to his friends. Kicking off their sneakers and shrugging out of their outer clothing, they shifted. Just like that. No big performance, no whisper of sound, no creaking of bones or sprouting of fur.
Within seconds, the young men were gone. In their place, a pack of sleek werewolves dropped to their haunches, shaking themselves free of the final remnants of clothing that had been shredded during their transformation. Baring huge fangs, they crouched low, preparing to face the group that had emerged from the house.
Nate pulled on her arm, drawing her back into the shadows where they could see what was going on, but not be seen themselves. Her instinct was to run from this scene, but she understood what he was doing. Roko—the man who had just shifted and become a werewolf—knew her. There were clues to her identity here.
The five werewolves who approached from the house dwarfed Roko and his friends. Huge and black, with eyes that glowed gold by the light of the moon, it was clear they meant business. The crowd that had followed them from the house was a combination of humans and werewolves, and the atmosphere thrummed with a cocktail of fear and anticipation as the two opposing packs lined up.
Crouching low, the black wolves rippled with muscle and menace. Vicious snarls rent the night. The space between the warring forces crackled with rage. Roko and his pack barely had time to answer back before the black werewolves sprang at them. The fury of the attack was so intense she felt its force even from her hiding place in the darkness. Instinct made her draw closer to Nate, and he placed a steadying arm around her shoulders.
In the golden glow of the garden lamps, blood sprayed and fur flew. It was clear from the start that Roko and his pack were hopelessly outclassed, but they fought bravely. The black wolves tore into them, ripping chunks of flesh from the smaller werewolves, forcing them onto their backs and into submission. It was clear this was an organized fighting force, used to working as a team, used to getting what it wanted.
Within the watching crowd, there were screams and shouts of outrage.
“Can’t we stop this?”
“Who are they?”
Even as some of the partygoing werewolves who had emerged from the house made a movement toward the fight, it was already over. The black wolves, having subdued Roko’s pack, were shifting back into human form. Five naked, muscle-bound men stood over the injured werewolves.
One of them addressed himself to the partygoers. “Apologies for any inconvenience. We won’t disturb you any longer.” Reaching down a giant hand, he grabbed Roko by the fur at the scruff of his neck and hauled him to his feet. “This is what we came for. He has something belonging to our master.”
Dragging Roko and the other wounded werewolves with them, the five men strode through the watching crowd and out through the front of the house.
* * *
“Violet...is that your name?”
Nate still had his arm around the woman, and he could feel the tremors that ran through her slender body. He wasn’t surprised. A brutal, bloody attack like the one they’d just witnessed was enough to leave anyone shaken. Following on from the earlier events of the evening, he was amazed to find she could still answer him coherently.
“It’s what he called me, so I guess it must be.”
“Wait here while I see if I can find out what that was all about.”
She slid her hand into his, those huge, trusting eyes fixed on his face. “Don’t leave me.”
Something lurched in the center of his chest. In a place where he hadn’t felt anything for a very long time. Six years, to be exact. He gave her a smile that he hoped was reassuring. “I’ll be two minutes.”
Reluctantly, she let go of his hand. An answering smile trembled on her lips. “I’m timing you.”
Nate strode out of the shadows. The party atmosphere was understandably subdued following the fight, and people were standing around discussing what had happened. He approached one group, slotting in as unobtrusively as he could.
“Who were those guys?” Nate turned to the man next to him.
“No one seems to know. Looks like they were gate-crashers who had a grudge against the other group, the ones they dragged away with them.”
“So no one knows who they were, either?”
Another man joined in the conversation. “Teo is a regular at these parties, but the others hadn’t been here before.”
“I heard Teo call one of his friends Roko,” Nate said.
“Name means nothing to me.”
“Me neither.” Both men shrugged.
Conscious of Violet—since that seemed to be her name—waiting anxiously for him in the shadows, Nate tried the same questions on a few other people. He got similar responses. Teo was known, Roko wasn’t. No one seemed to know what the fight was about or who the black werewolves were. With no more idea about what was going on or who Violet was, he made his way back to her.
“Nothing.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where to?”
“Back to my hotel room. At least there we can get you cleaned up and into some warm clothes while we talk about what to do next.”
Nate was getting seriously worried about Violet’s ability to stick with him by the time they had trudged back through the forest to the point where he had left his werewolf-hunting kit. Although she was making valiant efforts to keep up with his pace, she was clearly struggling. From the point where he had buried the werewolf, they still had to walk to the road where he had left his rental car. Hoisting his bag onto one shoulder, Nate scooped Violet into his arms so he could carry her the rest of the way. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head in the curve of his neck.
“Who are you? Really? I know your name, but that’s all.”
He laughed. “Just your average werewolf hunter.”
How did he start with the rest? Oh, and by the way, I’m in a band. Not just any band. We’ve been one of the top ten bestselling rock bands in Europe for the last two years and we’re just about to embark on a world tour. Which is why I have to be back in England tomorrow.
Somehow, nothing else mattered except how his hands felt compared with the softness of her thighs. Suddenly his fingers felt too big, too rough to be pressing into her delicate flesh. He experienced a ridiculous urge to apologize in case the abrasiveness of his touch was uncomfortable for her.
“But why are you here hunting werewolves. Why here, why now?” Her voice was a soft murmur in his ear, her breath warm against his cheek. Nate felt as if he was meant to carry her weight in his arms forever. This is ridiculous, he told himself firmly. He was getting carried away, believing himself to be taking the starring role in a child’s fairy tale. Slaying werewolves was part of his routine. Rescuing maidens seemed to have gone to his head.
“I get a message when there’s a problem.”
She laughed. “Just like that?”
“Yeah, it’s that simple.” As if anything in the last six years of his life had ever been that simple.
They had reached the car, and he placed Violet on her feet before stowing the bag containing his kit in the trunk. The courier would collect it from the motel later and dispose of it. All part of the service. A very bizarre service.
They accomplished the journey to the motel in silence, and once inside the room, Nate locked the door and switched on the lights. For the first time, he got a proper look at the woman he had rescued...and his breath caught in his throat.
“What is it?” Violet made an attempt to pull his sweatshirt down farther, squirming slightly under the intensity of his gaze.
Nate shook himself. “Well, at least we know your name really is Violet.”
She looked confused and he took her hand, drawing her over to the mirror. Turning her so that she could see her reflection, he stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Her eyes were enormous. Fringed by thick, spiky black lashes, they were a glorious, vivid shade of violet-blue. Her hair was a tumbling mass of midnight curls, and her skin, in contrast, was pale as milk. In the forest, he had thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. The harsh overhead glare of the neon lighting only confirmed his first impression.
Violet gave a shaky laugh. “How can I not know my own face?”
“That bump on the head must have caused you to lose your memory.”
She turned to face him. “You’re the only thing that seems real.”
With those words, the weight of his responsibility to her hit him full force. He had rescued her from that werewolf, but it didn’t end there. He couldn’t abandon her now. What had he hoped to do? Take her to a doctor and sneak out the back door while she was in the consulting room? Hand her over to the police? How would that story work out? While I was out werewolf hunting last night, I came across this naked girl...
No, Violet was in his care. Until her memory came back, or he found out who she was, he had a duty to look after her. A tiny voice at the back of his mind spoke up. Are you sure that’s what this is about? You haven’t just been bowled over by that beautiful face and those endless legs? Firmly, he shut it up.
“Go and take a shower or a bath while I make some calls.” He hesitated. “This might sound creepy, but it’s not intended to be...don’t lock the door. You may have a concussion, and I need to be able to get in there if you black out.”
She nodded trustingly and headed for the bathroom. Trusting. That’s what she’d been almost from the start. He had to live up to that trust. Six years a loner, and now, all at once, he was having to think for someone else.
Minutes later, he heard the faucet running. Nate dug his phone out of his pocket. It occurred to him that it would be useful if he had a number for Cal. His relationship with the sorcerer didn’t work that way. Cal contacted Nate when he needed to, usually turning up at some unearthly hour and surprising him when he least expected it. No, he couldn’t rely on Cal being around to help him out on this occasion. Instead, he called the other person who could be guaranteed to help him out in a crisis.
Ged Taverner had managed Beast since the group formed six years ago. He was the man who knew everything about each member of the group, every secret they had, both past and present. Now, despite the time difference, Ged answered on the third ring and managed to do a good job of sounding awake. He listened in silence while Nate explained what he needed from him.
His manager’s weary transatlantic groan needed no explanation. “Nate, don’t do this to me. You’re the sensible one, the one who never causes me any problems. I’ve never had to bail you out of a foreign prison. Never had to bribe a reporter to keep quiet about your antics. You’re not the one who calls me up days before we start the biggest tour of our lives and gives me this sort of headache.” Nate remained silent, and Ged tried for a persuasive tone. “We can find you another girl.”
Nate glanced at the clock. “It’s just after midnight here. I need you to sort this out today.”
Ged muttered a curse. “Nate, if she has no identity documents, there’s no way I can help you.”
“Make it happen, Ged, because I’m not leaving here until it does.”
This time the groaning and cursing held a note of defeat. “I’ll call you back in a few hours.”
When Nate hung up, he sank into a chair, leaning his head back and gazing at the ceiling as he listened to the sounds of splashing coming through the thin walls of the bathroom. He had made a commitment to protect Violet, and he would see it through. Even as he made the promise to himself, and to her, that little voice spoke up in his mind once more.
What if you find out that flawless face and beautiful body hide the soul of a werewolf?
* * *
Clad in a clean sweatshirt and a pair of Nate’s sweatpants rolled up at the ankles and cinched in as tight as she could get them at the waist, Violet emerged from the bathroom. She had used the dryer on her hair, being careful of her head wound, and it now curled wildly around her head and shoulders. Clearly, before her memory loss, she must have had a better idea of how to style it.
“I think I left half a forest in that tub.”
“How’s your head?” Nate was sprawled in a chair near the window.
“Sore.” She grimaced as she felt the back of her skull. “It’s not cut, but there’s a lump right here that hurts like hell.”
He snatched up his car keys. “Let’s get you to the emergency room.”
She studied him as he came toward her. He was tall and powerful, with an effortless, athletic grace to his movements. With his dark hair and eyes and masterfully carved features, her rescuer was a striking-looking man. There was something soulful in the depths of those dark eyes that tugged at her. When she looked into them, she felt like she was prying into some private grief.
But there was more to Nate than sorrow. There was an undercurrent of danger, a rawness about him that Violet thought held an untold story of hurt and anger. She guessed it provided the steel backbone necessary for killing werewolves and cutting off their heads and wondered why it didn’t scare her.