“Ah, God.” Drake stumbled back a step, sweat covering her arms and soaking through her cotton T-shirt.
“Drake?” Sophia reached for her. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Drake said, suppressing a gasp as another shaft of pain radiated along her spine. “What if she wins this struggle? The…my… wolf.”
“She won’t.” Sophia slipped her arm around Drake’s waist. “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat. Your metabolism is about ten times higher than it was at this time yesterday.”
“Afterwards, I want you to run a battery of tests on me.”
“Looking for what?” Sophia led Drake up the steps and across the wide porch to the mess hall.
“Anything. Anything that might suggest I could turn rabid.”
“I’ll do it,” Sophia said, “but if you were going to deteriorate, I don’t think we’d see a period of lucidity like this.”
“But you don’t know, do you?”
“No,” Sophia said regretfully. “We don’t really understand anything about how you were turned.”
“Then until we do,” Drake said, “we have to consider me a potential danger to everyone. Maybe I should be locked up a while longer.” Sophia stopped abruptly and, facing Drake, slipped her arms around Drake’s shoulders. She stroked Drake’s damp hair. “We don’t cage Pack members. We protect them.”
Weary of the constant pain and loneliness, Drake closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Sophia’s. If only she could believe her.
Chapter Nineteen
A little before six p.m., Sylvan shoved aside a pile of paperwork on her desk and impatiently punched in Elena’s cell number.
The instant Elena answered, she demanded, “How is she?”
“Better. She’s with Sophia right now.”
“Sophia?” A barrage of heat shot into Sylvan’s chest. She’d held off contacting Sophia about taking samples from Drake so Drake would have more chance to heal. “Doing what? I told you Drake wasn’t ready.”
“Alpha,” Elena said softly, “Sophia is a medic. She’s just following up on Drake’s status.”
“Where are they?”
“Sophia took her to the mess hall.”
The pressure in Sylvan’s chest intensified and she bolted to her feet. “Drake is out with the Pack? She’s a dominant in frenzy and completely untrained! Elena—what are you thinking?”
“Sophia is with her and Roger is on his way to join them, but Drake is fine. In fact…”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Drake is refusing to let anyone answer her call.”
“She’s not in frenzy, then?” The pressure in Sylvan’s chest eased and she drew in a slow breath.
“I’m not sure. She’s broadcasting strongly, but…it’s different. She’s different.”
Sylvan’s heart clenched. “Is there any sign of fever?”
“Nothing so far.”
“And she seems healthy?”
“Yes, very.”
“That’s good. That’s good.” Sylvan dropped into her chair, tilted her head back, and closed her eyes. She’d forced herself to work, answering phone calls, reviewing proposals, making notations on endless minutes from endless committee meetings with half a mind.
Underneath it all, she was constantly aware of the powerful urge to see Drake. To touch her. She rubbed the spot on her chest where Drake had bitten her. Her sex tightened.
“Alpha?” Elena asked uncertainly.
“What?” Sylvan replied.
“I asked when you would be back.”
“I don’t know.”
“She carries your scent.”
“An anomaly. It will fade.” The bite on Sylvan’s chest throbbed harder. “Tell Roger I want him to indoctrinate her. As soon as possible.”
“She’ll need to have a complete releas—”
“You said she’s not in frenzy,” Sylvan snapped.
“I know,” Elena said patiently, “but something is driving her. Alpha, I can sense her call across the Compound, and her need is powerful. Would you have her be in pain?”
“No. Never.” Sylvan closed her eyes. “I must speak with Sophia.”
“I’ll tell her to contact you right away.” Sylvan thought of Drake in need, surrounded by Pack who would willingly answer her call. Drake deserved the comfort of Pack, and she needed the physical release—with whatever Pack member she chose.
That was the natural order of their existence, and Sylvan could not interfere because of her own irrational reactions. She was Alpha, and she owed Drake no less than the freedom every other Pack member enjoyed. She wouldn’t make Drake suffer just because she didn’t want anyone else near her. She would have to tolerate Drake finding her place in the Pack as every Were had done for millennia.
Elena repeated, “Alpha? Should I have Sophia call you?”
“That’s not necessary.” Sylvan winced at the stabbing pain emanating from the bite in her chest. “I’m on my way back. I’ll talk to Sophia when I arrive.”
“Of course, Alpha. I’ll just tell Roger to take care of Drake, then.”
“Good. Tell him…tell him to make sure she has whatever she needs.”
Becca’s number one rule was to always follow a lead, no matter where it went, no matter how difficult the pursuit might be. Unless her mysterious caller contacted her again with more information about where and how the girls were being infected with Were fever, she had to pursue those who might know something. She had two choices—Jody Gates and Sylvan Mir. Getting an appointment with the Alpha was about as easy as getting to see the President, but Jody Gates might just be her admission ticket. So Becca did the logical thing. She followed the Vampire detective.
Jody had gone home after their breakfast that morning, presumably to sleep during daylight hours. Becca called the station house again and asked for Jody, to check her schedule. She was told the detective would be on duty at ten p.m. Just to be safe, after catching a few hours of sleep herself, she parked outside Jody’s State Street town house around six and waited. A few minutes before seven, Jody emerged, walked to a sleek black Porsche, and headed east toward the river. Becca gave her a full minute’s head start because she was fairly certain she knew where she was going.
Ten minutes later, Becca drove past Club Nocturne. Jody’s Porsche was in the parking lot. She pulled into a far corner from which she could watch the Porsche but where her Camaro wouldn’t be readily visible to someone walking out of the club. She shut off the ignition and sat with her hands on the wheel, debating going inside. The longer she sat in the car, the harder it was to convince herself she didn’t want to see Jody in the throes of blood thrall—even if it was with a stranger.
Moving stealthily on foot through the underbrush along the shore, Rex approached the black Town Car idling under the bridge. He waited and watched the car for a full fifteen minutes, constantly scanning the area for any sign of lookouts or possible ambush. He didn’t trust any of his business associates. He didn’t trust anyone. When he was certain the area was clear, he posted his own bodyguards and tapped on the rear window. The door locks snicked open and the rear door swung wide. He glanced inside. Two men with military haircuts and matching black turtlenecks occupied the front seats, their weapons trained on him through the open rear door. A middle-aged man with silver streaked black hair, wearing a two-thousand-dollar blended silk suit, sat on the far side of the rear seat. The man gestured for Rex to get in.
“Tell your men to put away their guns,” Rex said.
“Of course,” the man said pleasantly. He murmured something in a voice too low for Rex to hear, and the men in the front slid their weapons from sight.