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Yates sighed. “I understand that, but…”

Marrec cut him off, “Who’s not ready to be turned yet.”

Yates was confused, “Marrec, that usually takes years. No matter what Zach did or didn’t do.”

“Then why was she was trotting around my store today like she was about to run a marathon? No pain. Just power. And guess what? Her friends noticed.”

Yates sighed again, his canines smoothly disappearing back into his mouth. “Shit, Zach, what did you do?”

Zach wasn’t ashamed of what he did; he just didn’t know Sara would react to it so strongly or so quickly. “I bled her old wound, just like you suggested.”

“I didn’t suggest shit to you!” Marrec stared straight at Zach, “And exactly how did you bleed her without her knowing what you were up to?”

When Zach didn’t answer, Marrec again went right for his throat. Yates and Conall pulled Marrec back.

Yates was clearly losing patience. “Marrec,” he snapped as he pushed the man back for what seemed the hundredth time. “The bottom line is she’s not yours. By blood or mark. So, I’m not exactly sure what your problem is.”

“Did you ever see someone turned quickly? It’s rare, but it happens.” Marrec took a deep breath and once he seemed to be under some kind of control, Yates silently allowed him to walk over to Zach and face him. The two men stood toe to toe, and although he was a good 5 inches shorter than Zach, his power and why he was Alpha male of his Pack was more than clear. “If something happens to her because of this,” Marrec warned in a deadly low voice, “no one will be able to protect you from me.”

The men locked eyes for a few more seconds; then, with a snarl, Marrec turned and walked away. The three men watched Marrec’s truck pull out of their campsite.

Conall gave his friend a sympathetic look, and headed off back to the lake to meet up with the rest of the Pack. When he was gone, Yates rubbed his tired, blood-shot eyes and looked at Zach. “Let’s not bullshit around, okay, Zach?” When Zach didn’t reply, Yates went on. “We both know what Casey is up to. But I know that it’s time for me to step down, no matter what she thinks or wants. I’m tired. And I’m burnt out. I just want to be part of the Pack. Not worrying about who is doing what. And I want you to take over. But if you fuck this up, and that girl goes down because of you… there’s no Pack in the world that will have you.”

“I don’t care.” Zach answered honestly. “You didn’t see her in pain, Yates. The girl was dying.” Zach paused for a moment, “And I wasn’t going to let her.”

Yates looked mildly surprised. He slowly nodded in understanding, “Fine.” Yates moved next to Zach so that he was right by him, his voice low, “Then you better watch her. Because if she turns as fast as I think she might, she will go down and she’ll take this entire town with her.”

Yates left Zach standing there in the middle of the campsite. And for the first time in Zach’s life, his first thought wasn’t about the Pack or himself. It was about her. The thought of anything happening to her caused his insides to clench up and his brain to shut down, leaving only one thought. He had to find her. He had to find her now.

Shit. Dick went hard again. He would really have to do something about that.

Chapter Eight

TOC

Sara paced back and forth inside Miki’s tiny apartment. She was anxious, tense, and extremely horny. This seemed odd, considering her current situation.

As soon as they left Marrec’s shop, Angelina had dragged her to Miki’s. After banging on the door for several minutes, a clearly just-awakened Miki answered, “What?”

Angelina looked surprised, “My god, where you actually asleep?”

“Yeah,” she replied sarcastically, “I was actually asleep.”

“Well, isn’t that rare.” Angelina stated honestly. She had pushed her way past Miki, dragging Sara behind her. “You’re not going to believe this shit,” she announced to Miki. And before Sara knew it she was forced to act like a runway model, parading back and forth in Miki’s tiny, book-filled living room to demonstrate how her limp had all but disappeared.

By this point, Miki was fully awake, “Honey, exactly what did that guy do to you?”

“I’m not answering that question again.” Sara had given them the barest of details on her sexual exploits the night before. She wasn’t about to go into how she’d screamed and writhed under the man’s tongue like a horny dog.

“Would you focus,” Miki snapped. “There has to be a reason you’re suddenly…okay.”

Sara had stopped modeling and faced her two friends, “But I’m not okay. I’m dying.”

“What?!”

But Angelina cut off the potential insanity. “You are not dying, you idiot.” Angelina looked at her friend from the safety of Miki’s old couch, “In fact, you look as healthy as a fucking horse.”

“Which brings us back to the point,” Miki cut in. “What did he do to you?”

“I don’t know. Nothing?”

As if rehearsed, both Angelina and Miki raised one eyebrow each as they stared at their in-denial friend.

Sara sighed and crossed her arms in front of her chest, hoping to hide her hardening nipples. Christ, just the thought of him! “Look, I’m not telling you about… you know.”

Miki rolled her big brown eyes, “I don’t want to know where his tongue was…”

“Dude!”

Miki barreled on, “But did he give you anything? Any pills? Anything to drink? I mean, fuck, it was a rave.”

Sara thought back to that night. She remembered him rubbing her thigh, kissing her thigh, licking her… shit.

Sara turned and charged into the bathroom. Miki and Angelina close behind. As they walked in, Sara already had her khakis down around her ankles and was turning to the mirror to examine the wound she had cleaned off and slapped a large bandage on just that morning. With one move she tore the bandage off, revealing her old scar, ripped through with four ragged lines.

“Holy shit.” Angelina gasped as Miki knelt by Sara and looked at her thigh. After several moments her eyes locked with Sara’s.

Miki shrugged, “They look like animal marks.”

“Bullshit!” Sara barked, “How would you know that anyway?”

Miki looked exasperated, “Hello. I read everything.”

Miki left the bathroom, and Sara could hear her rummaging around her apartment, pawing through the huge number of books. After a few minutes, Miki returned with a huge, dusty tome. “Here.”

She pushed a book at Sara and Angelina. The two friends looked at page 234 of the Encyclopedia of Mammals and saw a huge paw print. “Front paw print of 6-year-old gray wolf, actual size,” read the caption.

“You see?” Miki demanded.

“See what?” Sara demanded back.

“It can’t be,” Angelina muttered, still staring at the book.

“Exactly.” Sara momentarily felt vindicated.

“The paw mark on her leg is much bigger.”

“It is not a paw mark!” Sara barked angrily as she reached down to pull her pants back up. “You are both insane!” She pushed past her two friends, “I’m outta here.”

Sara headed for the door, but both Miki and Angelina grabbed her just as she stepped outside.

“Oh, no you don’t, missy.” Angelina pulled her back in while Miki slammed the door. “Until we know what’s going on, you’re not going anywhere.”

And that had been four hours ago. Her friends still had no answers, although a lot of ridiculous theories were running rampant. So, Sara paced and paced and paced. She was starting to feel like the walls were closing in on her. Like she was trapped. The apartment was so tiny. And she had all this energy. She just wanted to go for a run or something. She just needed some fresh air. What could be the harm of that?