Wolves' Bane (The Order of the Wolf, #3)

“Another interesting question.” Another laugh, followed by a crack over the line. A crack that was echoed in the forest beside me. I jerked my gaze toward the noise.

A scream died in my throat as Jimmy emerged from the forest. I lowered the phone, then dropped it completely as my fingers suddenly lost the ability to work properly.

He was smiling maniacally, his face distorted by his crazed expression. “Hello, Morgan,” he drawled as he moved toward me.

I took a step back, my eyes locked on the horror that was once Jimmy. “You d-d-d-died.” I stuttered as I swept my gaze toward his neck. The wound that should have been there was gone, but the blood that coated him was not. His clothes were dirty and ripped, his face, arms and hands covered in deep cuts and bruises. Worse were his eyes, once a warm brown, now filled with blood, red and cold with hatred.

“Yes, I did. And then I was reborn.”

I took another step back, a tremor of terror sliding down my body. “What do you mean?”

Jimmy lifted one gnarled hand for me to stop moving. I noticed the claws. “Oh come on, Morgan. Have your Hunters truly not explained things to you?” He rolled his grotesque eyes, the smile dissolving from his face to be replaced by a scowl. “I was bitten by a werewolf,” he growled. “And now I will become one.” He raised his hand and twisted it to show me its gross disproportion to the rest of his body, the long claws caked with blood, the sprouting hairs lining his wrist. “I am already becoming.”

I gasped. “Oh god, Jimmy, this is my fault.”

“Yes, it is.” His voice rumbled with anger as he took another step toward me, now only a few feet away. The smell of decay twisted my stomach.

He reeked of rotting flesh, of dirty animal, of death. I realized with growing horror that he’d crossed the boundary of the forest. Whatever protective magic Cal thought he’d created wasn’t working on Jimmy. Reflexively I took another step backward, but he was on me in a minute, smashing his fist into my jaw so hard that it snapped my head back and made my eyesight blur. I crumpled down, but he caught me, cradling me in one arm.

“Yes, it is your fault, you stupid bitch. And if the master didn’t want you so badly, I would rip your skin from your bones. I would eat your body, feast on your tender flesh.” He nestled his rotting mouth next to my ear, licking the lobe. “And I would have you again—fuck you until you screamed.” He chuckled cruelly.

As my vision began to clear, I fought to keep myself from vomiting, fought to keep my heart from leaping right out of my chest. Where was Cal? Where were the others? I struggled to break free but Jimmy held me tight, tsking as he turned me around and forced my back to his chest, his impossibly strong arm locking me against him.

“Oh no, Morgan, you’re not getting away from me that easily. My master wants you and I will not displease him.” A shudder ran through him, as if the very thought had him terrified. He dragged me toward the edge of the forest. “The king must be obeyed. He will be so pleased when I bring his bride to him.”

Panic ripped through me and I screeched as I slammed my head backward, smashing my skull into his nose with all of my strength. The satisfying crunch was momentarily lost when my vision swam again and my stomach lurched. He grunted but didn’t release his hold. Instead he gripped my neck, cutting off my air, choking away the scream that lay on my lips. I clawed at his hand, desperate for release as his deformed fingers dug into my flesh. I knew he wouldn’t kill me—his fear of Lazarus’s wrath was palpable—but it wouldn’t do me much good if he knocked me out either.

I slammed my head back again, but he anticipated my move and tensed his grip on my neck, forcing me to stop as he clenched tighter. My eyes watered and my lungs screamed for air. I scanned the tree line on the other side of the property, the side that Cal and the others had gone, but there was nothing there—only the darkness of the forest and an endless stretch of trees.

“There’s no one here to help you, Morgan,” he hissed as he squeezed his arm around my abdomen, crushing my ribs, my deflated lungs burning even more. “You’d have had a better chance if you’d been bonded—would’ve been able to kill me quite easily. Too late for that.” He chuckled as he dragged me farther. “And King Lazarus will be very pleased you won’t have the stink of that Hunter all over you.”

With my eyes locked on the opposite side of the forest, I made one last attempt to break free, lifting my leg in an awkward angle to kick out his knee. But my kick fell short of its mark and lacked any kind of power, my body as deflated as my lungs, crying for air. Tears burned my eyes. It was no use.

I was trapped. I was beaten.

From the corner of my swimming vision I saw the forest and knew, once he got me in there, I’d be lost forever.





Chapter Eighteen





Lines in the Sand