“Max,” Sylvan said. “Take Jazz and Alex out to the Rover.” She gave the boys a brief glance, her expression softening for an instant.
“Go. I have Misha.”
The teenagers obeyed instantly. As they trooped out behind the enormous, craggy-faced Max, Drake tried to approach Sylvan, only to find Niki firmly in her path. She hadn’t even seen the Were guard move.“Excuse me,” Drake said, meeting Niki’s gaze but attempting not to transmit any kind of challenge. She wasn’t interested in fighting, but she intended to speak with Sylvan.
Niki’s expression remained completely impassive, but her green eyes flared in warning.
“It’s all right, Niki,” Sylvan said with surprising gentleness.
Niki hesitated and Drake could feel her reluctance, sensed her agonized compulsion to follow two dictates. She pictured how it must have looked to Niki coming upon the mad scene in the cubicle—Misha thrashing in agony, the Were teenagers almost out of control, the enraged Were Alpha. Drake had been standing so close to Sylvan and with her hands on one of their young. No wonder she’d ended up against the wall. Niki had been trying to protect Sylvan, and Drake respected that.
“I’m no threat to your Alpha,” Drake said, her anger dissipating. “I give you my word.”
Niki’s brows rose in surprise. Her harsh glare softened, but she said quietly, “If you make one wrong move, I’ll rip your throat out.”
“So noted.”
Apparently satisfied, Niki stepped aside.
Sylvan frowned at Drake. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Drake replied.
“What you did—getting that close to Misha, to me—was very foolish.” Sylvan stroked Misha’s hair and the girl whimpered, burrowing her face against Sylvan’s neck. “We’re very protective of all our young, but especially the females. When one is threatened, we become—aggressive.”
“What I did was as natural for me as what you did was for you.” Sylvan shook her head.
“I don’t think so.”
“At least tell me what happened here,” Drake insisted. She understood enough of Were culture to know they were driven more strongly than humans by physical instincts, but her instincts to care for the injured were just as strong. “I’ve seen something like this before.”
“That would be very unlikely,” Sylvan said.
“Just explain—” Drake hesitated as Sophia Revnik, the Were medic, slipped through the crowd and into the cubicle.
“Alpha,” Sophia said, dipping her head briefly before glancing at Niki. Her gaze seemed to catch as it passed over Niki’s face.
“Imperator.”
“Sophia,” Niki said, her tone low and rough.
“I’m sorry, Alpha,” Sophia said to Sylvan. “I was across town when I got the call. I came immediately. How is she?”
“Better.” Sylvan cradled Misha’s head against her shoulder, her blood-streaked hand on the back of Misha’s neck. This might not have been an isolated incident. I need you to check the records for other rogue attacks.
Sophia nodded.
Drake sensed the silent communication. The Weres had never admitted to having any kind of telepathic ability, but it was clear Sylvan was addressing Sophia in some way. While she appreciated the need to prevent knowledge of Were biology from being turned into a weapon against them, she resented being excluded. Irrational, but there it was.
These Weres shared something unique with Sylvan Mir, and Drake envied the intimacy.
“I want to know what kind of emergency treatment I should institute next time,” Drake repeated, shrugging off the emotional reaction that made no sense to her.
“Niki, Sophia,” Sylvan said, “wait outside.” Sophia immediately retreated to the hall, but Niki whipped her head around, muttering something too low for Drake to hear.
“I’m fine,” Sylvan said. “Go, I’ll be right there.” With one last warning snarl in Drake’s direction, Niki disappeared.
Sylvan regarded Drake with a penetrating stare. “If this happens again—or anything like it, you should not interfere.”
“I won’t stand by and watch a patient die.”
“You don’t understand the repercussions. What kind of danger you’ll be in.”
“Then why don’t you tell me.”
“I don’t know you, Dr. McKennan. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not Pack,” Sylvan murmured, wondering why she was bothering to explain. Revealing their presence to the human population had been risk enough. She would not expose her Pack or any of the other Praeterns to potential genocide. She didn’t even know why she lingered to talk to this human doctor. Misha, although not in immediate danger, was exhausted from her instinctive struggle to shift and expel the poison. The toxin leaching into her system had blocked her shift, and she was at risk for more serious complications. Complications Sylvan had no intention of revealing to a human. Sylvan needed to get Misha home so the Pack medicus could monitor her.
Drake frowned. “What happens the next time a Were comes in like this, and you’re not here?”
“I will be.”
“You can’t be everywhere,” Drake insisted, her temper rising. She did not suffer impotence well.
“I will be where I need to be.” Sylvan started toward the hall, then stopped and turned back. “I apologize for any pain we may have caused you. The Pack is in your debt and you may call on us for repayment at any time.”
Drake straightened. “No debt is owed, Ms. Mir. I would do the same again.”
“Beware that your bravery does not lead you into harm, Doctor.” Sylvan stepped into the hall where Niki and a redhead nearly too beautiful to be male fell in on either side of her.
Watching them glide down the hall, their long strides fluid and graceful, Drake noted that all three wore T-shirts, jeans, and no shoes.
The big male Max, who had escorted the teenagers out, had been dressed the same way. Another secret she would not have the answer to this night. Sylvan Mir and her wolves disappeared, leaving Drake feeling oddly empty.
Chapter Three
You worthless mutt! Your orders are to capture females, not kill them!” Rex clubbed the young male on the side of the head, knocking him to his knees, and kicked him in the midsection. “I should gut you for letting them escape.”
“Please, Rex, I’m sorry.” The Were moaned and curled into a ball as the tall, muscular blond known only as Rex loomed over him. Rex was decked in leather from head to toe, and was as much feared in his human shape as wolf. He killed ruthlessly and efficiently in either form.
“We didn’t expect them to resist—they’re only pups. But they fought, and the struggle was beginning to draw attention, so we retreated. We thought—”
“I don’t pay you to think.” Rex kicked the sniveling underling again. “I pay you to do as I command.”
Rex paced the length of the abandoned warehouse situated on the banks of the Hudson, his anger a black miasma threatening to snap his control. Bare bulbs swung from exposed beams, and the smell of rotting fish and decaying wood assaulted his acute sense of smell. He was forced to make his headquarters in a decrepit, derelict building while Sylvan Mir’s expansive compound occupied thousands of acres within the even vaster territory owned by the Timberwolf Pack. He should be the leader there, not her. Pivoting sharply, he stalked back to the pathetic, cowering runt who had let a prime female escape. He’d promised delivery and now he would have to find a plausible reason for the delay.
The male scuttled back against the wall, drawing his knees up to protect his body. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He glanced at the ragtag assortment of rogues clustered in the shadows, hoping for some support. No one came forward in his defense and his voice rose as he babbled, “We’ve been watching their perimeters, Rex.