Pack

Chapter 2

She ran, legs pumping madly, matching her breath coming in short pants. The crackling noise of her passage echoed through the sun-dappled branches, but she dared not slow. The one who chased her left no sound of his passage, but even though he moved as quietly as a wraith, the birds fell silent as they sensed the predator come amongst them. Her meandering flight brought her to a sun-filled clearing. Her chest heaving, she twirled, seeking him in the shadows. But as always, he snuck up on her. Arms, growing solid with brawn, wrapped around her and lifted her from the ground.

"Caught you," he whispered in her ear.

She squealed. "Nathan! Put me down."

"I will for a kiss."

She pretended to think about it and squeaked as he squeezed her tight. "All right, all right." She laughed. "You win. One kiss."

He turned her in his arms and looked down at her with those beautiful blue eyes. She could see mirth dancing in their depths. It went well with the crooked smile on his face, the one she wanted to kiss senseless.

She pursed her lips and tilted her head, all the invitation he needed to touch his mouth to hers. Oh, how she loved the electric current that ran through her when he held and embraced her like this. It made her whole body thrum and ache in the most intimate of places.

It was made even hotter by the fact that it was forbidden.

When his hands grew bold, tracing the contour of her buttocks, she pushed away from him. With a mischievous grin, she took off running again. And, with his laughter surrounding her, he gave chase.

Her alarm clock rang shrilly, jolting her from the dream. At least it had been one of the nicer ones, from a time when she still innocently thought things could turn out differently for her. I used to be so oblivious.

A hot cup of coffee-extra strong and bitter enough to make her grimace-further dispelled the foolish remembrance of her youth. She gulped down a bowl of Cheerios before she dressed in well-worn jeans, a faded plaid shirt, and steel-toed boots. Practical attire for her job at the lumber mill, a dirty, muscle-straining job but one that helped her stay strong, not to mention it also paid the bills.

It served another purpose as well. The mill, being the only place of real employment in town, meant she could easily keep track of the transients who came to work and ascertain their species-Lycan or human. When it came to the former, she took no chances. Run or die.

So far, she'd managed to fly under the radar of any packs in the environs and live peacefully. She'd stayed here long enough to even grudgingly come to like the mill and the people she worked with there. The idea of starting all over again didn't please her. Not only did the constant fresh starts get wearying, she was tired of constantly having to prove her worth. She'd worked hard to get to her current position of leader in the headsaw division. Only the best of the best could do it. Unlike the bull-chain operators, who simply pulled the logs into the mills, or the barkers, who ran the stripping machines, she needed skill. Not that she couldn't do their jobs. She could take over any position in the place, including that of the deck workers who rolled the logs onto the platform or the block setters who placed the logs into position. But any i***t with a little muscle could do those jobs. As leader of the headsaw crew, she was the one they counted on. She made sure they got as much high-grade lumber as possible from each log. It required precision and an ability to feel the wood, something she had a knack for.

Used to mockery, she'd bet the doubters a round of drinks she could do it, and won, of course, to their chagrin.

It didn't end the pissing contests, but she'd gotten the job and grudging respect. Employed, she'd rented a house on the edge of the immense forest reserve and lived a careful life. One free of pack politics and emotional turmoil. A lonely existence empty of family and a partner. But better to live on her terms than as a s*x slave to numerous men, which was what awaited her should she run across a Lycan who got past her defenses. She enjoyed a fragile freedom that required constant guarding.

Not trusting just her animal instinct to protect her, she'd splurged and set up a simple perimeter alarm. Anything bigger than a cat and the alarm went off, sending a signal to her laptop, which was always on and which, in turn, would alert her via cell phone. How can I be lonely when paranoia is my constant companion? she thought wryly.

She drove to work in her beat-up truck. Old, noisy, and a pig on gas, it served the purpose of getting her back and forth to work, and she wouldn't cry if she had to leave it behind, a lesson learned in one of her previous temporary homes, where she'd had to ditch her lovingly restored Mustang. But I don't need objects to make me happy, she told herself, even as she still regretted the loss.

She parked in the muddy parking lot and squelched her way into the building. The stench of the mill this close to the source was almost eye-watering, but she'd had plenty of time to get used to it. She dumped her lunch in the humming fridge and mumbled some good-mornings to the crews already there sipping coffee from their travel mugs. She snagged her time card and punched in. Grabbing a Styrofoam cup, she poured some of the sludge that passed as coffee.

"Why the hell aren't you lazy bastards already working?" she demanded.

"Line's down," Big Mike announced.

Stupid malfunctioning equipment. A delay like this would mean they'd have to work twice as hard to make up for lost time. "Again?" She rolled her eyes. "When is f*****g management gonna get its head out of its ass and fix the damned belt with something other than spit and prayers?"

"When s**t's worth gold," another of her crew answered.

She laughed as she nudged Mike to move over on the picnic table management had brought indoors for their use since chairs didn't seem to last. "Move over, fat ass," she ordered.

Big Mike chuckled as he slid over to make her some room. "Honey, my ass might be fat, but my c**k is even wider." Mike held his hands apart two feet, and Dana grinned as she shook her head.

Dana didn't take offense. Working with men, she needed to have a laxer attitude, and getting up on her high horse over companionable ribbing would shut her out quicker than tattle-telling to the boss. "Damn, Mike. You are just too much man for little ol' me."

Laughter filled the room as they continued to banter back and forth.

Cory, a deck worker, stuck his head inside the employee break room. "Hey, Dana. The boss wants to see ya."

"Now what?" she grumbled as she stood up and tossed her half-drunk coffee in the battered garbage bin.

"Tell him I got a hot date tonight and we can't work late," Mike called after her as she left to meet with her boss.

She walked into her foreman's office, expecting another speech on how the owners needed them to up production-blah blah, blah. In other words, the usual spiel he gave after every quarterly accounting. But it seemed complacency was to be her enemy today because she walked in and froze at the sudden, unmistakable scent of wolf.

Fuck. The kid in the office, the only name she had for the fresh-faced youth standing there, turned to face her, and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth, probably to say something stupid, and she gave him a cold glare to shut him up. He obeyed, but she didn't miss the interest lighting his expression.

A pity she'd have to douse that spark of life.

She only half listened to her boss as he asked her to show the kid around and find a spot for him to work. His regular training lackey was out sick, and given the log crews were behind due to machinery malfunctions, the annoying task of training fell to her.

The pup barely waited until they'd left the office to announce his intention. "I claim you."

"Not likely," she snorted.

"You can't do that. You're unmarked, making you free game to the first male who claims you. Pack law says so."

Dana whirled and, in a flash, pinned the annoying pup against the wall with a forearm across his throat. "Listen here, little boy. I don't want to be claimed and really don't give a s**t what pack law says. In case you hadn't noticed, I chose to live outside of one. If you want to live, I'd suggest you forget about trying to claim me. I've taken down much bigger wolves than you."

The pup's face went slack with astonishment-only for a moment. Then male arrogance-also known as the dumbass syndrome-once again took over. "You can't threaten me like that, and you don't get to decide what you want. Pack law says I can claim any unmarked female."

Dana's patience snapped, and any squeamish feelings over what she had to do evaporated with his stance. "Really? Is that your final answer? Because, just so you know, my law says any prick who tries to claim me against my will either loses his d**k or dies. So, what's your choice, puppy, because I'm losing patience really f*****g fast."

When he would have opened his annoying mouth again to spout some more nonsense, she kneed him. Where words tended to not work when a male was thinking with his c**k, a dirty shot tended to wake them up real quick-that and she got sadistic pleasure out of seeing them gasp for air and turn all kinds of shades of purple.

She sauntered away, noting with her keen senses that he followed, if unhappily. He said not one more word to her as she went through the motions of showing him around. She didn't care if he retained anything or not. He wouldn't live to see the morning.

Her decision to take him out didn't please her, but she knew his type. She'd dealt with them before. Only one thing stopped them once they scented her-death.

Something alerted her coworkers to her simmering anger, probably her tight jaw and flashing eyes, because the regular crews refrained from saying anything to her face about her little shadow. It didn't stop them, though, from snickering behind her back when they thought she couldn't hear-wolves, even in human form, had much keener senses, including enhanced auditory ones. The mill workers joked about how she'd whip the new boy into shape. If they only knew.

She clocked out at five o'clock but got hung up by one of the guys, who grabbed her by the arm and teased her about her unwilling trainee. By the time she managed to extricate herself, the young wolf was gone.

"f**k, f**k, and f**k again." She muttered expletives under her breath as she stalked to her beaten-up truck. She scanned the parking lot, more a mud pit with various pieces of rusted crap sitting on tires. She didn't find the pup. Hell, he could have been sitting right under her nose, but given she didn't even know what he drove, and the overpowering stench from the mill, she couldn't even track him. However, there were only two places in town to rent rooms, the majority of which were held by mill workers. She didn't figure he'd be hard to find. Unless he'd smartly left town.

Two hours later, after scouring the small town several times over, including the diner, bar, and pharmacy, she gave up. The pup seemed to have disappeared, taking the news of her existence with him. She drove home in simmering silence. She wanted to believe he'd left, moved on to greener and easier pastures. Her gut, however, said he'd be back, and she'd bet he was the type to bring friends.

Pulling into her drive, she hit the gas too hard and spit up gravel with her spinning tires. Not that she cared if she left a rut. The next owner could take care of it. It was time to move on. Dana slammed out of her truck and stalked into her house.

Un-f*****g-believable. Forced to leave because of a wet-behind-the-ears pup. Cursing and rigid with alert tension, she first checked her laptop for any signs of a perimeter breach. None of the alarms had been tripped-yet. She began throwing clothes into a duffel bag, a plan abandoned as the rumble of engines approached. She took a quick peek out her window and saw them coming up her drive. One vehicle, two . . .

Dana dropped her duffel bag and ran for the back door. She flew outside, tearing at her clothes as she sprinted across her back lawn.

She smelled the wolves before she saw them. Her eyes flicked from side to side, scanning her yard. She discovered a pair of them flanking the rear of the house. She vaguely wondered how they'd evaded setting off her sensors but didn't ponder it for long. One thought took precedence at this point-survival. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they'd planned to either flush her out into their waiting, furry net or, at the very least, corral her in a noose of werewolves, hoping numbers would take her down.

Like hell. She shifted while running, a feat that had taken practice, given the pain and distraction of exchanging one body for another. But her self-inflicted lessons served her well, as the approaching wolves faltered in surprise. She didn't waste the moment. She took off like a bat out of hell, following the escape route that existed purely in her mind, one ripe with pitfalls for the unwary.

She hit the shadows offered by the towering trees, the sound of pursuit hot on her heels. But she'd planned for this. She veered sharply to the left and gauged her footfalls to avoid the innocuous pile of leaves. She cleared the trap she'd set and sent up a quick prayer.

A yelp sounded from behind her, and she would have grinned had she not been intent on her getaway. One down, God only knew how many more to go.

The summer sun, close to setting, colored the woods a panoply of colors, but she was more interested in the increasing murk. She turned sharply again, moving in a zigzag pattern that brought her to a small stream, and while she hated the noise of her passage, she knew that this liquid trail would throw them off for a bit.

On and on she ran, her sides heaving, her tongue lolling, weaving in and out of the forest she'd grown to know. She avoided the trenches, snares, and holes she'd dug in her preparation for this day, all the while cursing the males who'd forced her to run. Why does the word Ôno' just not exist in their vocabulary? More importantly, why couldn't I have been born human?

Wishing, though, did nothing to change her fate. She could rely only on herself and her will to survive-oh, and the nasty booby traps she'd laid. She wasn't going down without a fight. Occasionally she would hear a howl or a yelp as one of her pursuers met some of her hidden treats, but she didn't dare slow. Her gut screamed, Danger, and urged her to keep going.

Night fell, and she still kept moving, her gait slowing as the adrenaline began to wear off. She'd put miles between herself and the house she'd abandoned. Not far enough. Needing to rehydrate herself, she stopped for a quick drink and listened for sounds of pursuit.

The night surrounded her in an eerie quiet. Even the insects kept their silence. Dana didn't like it one bit. She took off again, slower, as she decided to forgo speed in favor of stealth.

She kept inhaling deeply, her nose sorting the many distracting scents. Nothing untoward appeared, and yet, something didn't seem right. The air hung too still. The forest seemed to hold its breath in an unnatural silence.

As she trotted across a circular clearing, bordered by towering trees, the sense of wrongness amplified, but before she could backtrack into the shadows, bodies fell from the trees and landed with thumps all around her.

Dana danced in place, her mind screaming at her for stupidly walking into a well-laid ambush. The naked men of varying sizes closed in on her, strangers all except for one, young pup. That little bastard. He'll be the first to die.

She lunged at the youth who'd betrayed her, barely noticing his eyes widening in shock before she caught his throat in her teeth. He didn't have time to shift-he died that quickly, with his blood spurting hotly and enticingly in her mouth. Her human side recoiled from the pleasure of the kill, but with her beast in control, she couldn't prevent the elation and thrill. She didn't rejoice long.

Heavy, furry bodies slammed into her, tearing her from their dead pack mate.

Dana fought for her life, snapping her teeth and ripping at any flesh she could clamp her jaw around. Not that it mattered. They were careful not to kill her, but their sheer numbers and strength battered her. Blow after ringing blow hit her. She staggered, determined not to give up. Human arms wrapped around her neck and cut off her air supply.

In a panic, she shifted, trying to use the defense moves she'd learned to unlock the chokehold-to no avail.

"Feisty little b***h. We're going to enjoy taking turns with you and beating out your defiance."

The speaker thrust himself against her backside, his sickening arousal evident. Dana thrashed, fear finally overcoming her courage, her scream of horror caught in her throat. More and more hands grabbed at her, and though she fought with all her strength, she couldn't escape. They kept piling on top, copping painful feels and cracking a few ribs in the process. Body pinned to the ground, each lungful of air became sharp pain in her chest, and her dizziness grew.

"Enough!" their leader yelled. "We don't have time for this. We're not the only ones about this night. Don't worry. We'll all get a turn at her sweet cunt. Save your energy for when we get back to the house. You're gonna need it to win your spot in the hierarchy of who's gonna get to f**k the little b***h first."

Cheers erupted, which transitioned into howls, as the bastards cheered this announcement.

Dana moaned, unable to stop the creeping terror that enhanced the pain that threatened to drag her down in its grip. She feared blacking out and waking a victim of their perverted lust. She was yanked to her feet, her vision blurry but not enough to miss the leering faces all about her. Turned upside down and thrown roughly over a hairy shoulder, the excruciating agony against her abused ribs finally made her succumb to blackness. As her eyes lost focus and drifted shut, she couldn't stop one last panicked thought. Please, don't let me wake. She feared the nightmare to come if she did.