Bitten By Mistake (2 page)

“I have to go.” Nathan stood, and only when Jared looked up did he realise Nathan was talking to him.

“What? But—” Jared bit off the rest of that sentence.

Why am I trying to stop him? Just let him go, for fuck’s sake.

“Sorry.” Nathan turned, and the crowd swallowed him up in seconds, leaving Jared staring after him.

“Fuck.”
Relieved
was the only emotion he should be feeling now Nathan was gone, but a niggling curiosity remained under Jared’s skin, and no matter how much he tried to stamp it out, it wouldn’t go away. “Fucking, fuck.”

Doubtful he’d ever see Nathan again; he would ignore it until it went away. There were plenty of humans just as hot.

Jared shifted in his seat to get a better view of the club and scanned the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor to see if anyone took his fancy.

His mind kept going back to Nathan—his hair and his eyes and those fucking huge shoulders.

For God’s sake.

Jared slammed his empty bottle on the table and stood. The night was ruined; he might as well go home before he was tempted to do something stupid and reckless.

Skirting the edge of the dance floor proved no easier than attempting to fight his way across. The club was full to bursting, and people bumped into him from all sides.

He shouldered his way through; more than one drink spilled over him as he weaved his way out. Almost to the exit, someone heavy stumbled into his side, knocking him flying. Strong arms caught him before he hit the floor.

“Shit, are you okay?” The stranger who’d saved him ran his hands over Jared’s arms, up along his shoulders to his neck, and kept them there.

Still dazed from the collision, it took Jared a few seconds to realise what had happened. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jared tried to shrug out of the guy’s grip, but the man’s hands tightened ever so slightly on Jared’s neck. Jared stilled immediately.

“Hey, calm down. I’m just checking you’re okay.” His tone was soft and placating, but his eyes were focused and cold.

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” Jared fought to keep his breathing and heart rate steady. The situation was weird at best; he didn’t want it to escalate. If anything happened in there, he doubted many witness would be lining up to testify. The law might require shifters to register their DNA, but Jared suspected not all of them did.

The guy let him go and stepped back. “Try to be more careful next time.” And then he was gone.

Any lingering thoughts that maybe shifters weren’t all bad had been fully doused with that little display. It had been a long time since Jared had been scent-marked, and it left him feeling dirty, like a physical stain on his skin. The sooner he got home to shower the better.

Once outside the club, Jared stopped on the pavement to get his bearings. The night was warm enough not to need a jacket, and when Jared glanced up at the sky, the moon shone brightly. The full moon was last night. Maybe that was why all the shifters were acting sketchier than normal—a hangover from shifting into whatever nasty version of wolf they changed into.

Jared shuddered, a flash image of claws and teeth assaulted his mind before he could block it out.

He needed another drink.

Standing there outside the club, debating whether to go home or move on to another bar, Jared’s awareness wasn’t as sharp as it should have been. He didn’t notice the young guy brush past him and lift his wallet until he was ten feet past and breaking into a jog.

“Oi!” Jared set off after him, yelling down the street.

Could tonight get any fucking worse?

CHAPTER TWO

Nathan stalked down the street, cursing as he went. The noise of the club faded into the background and along with it went the promise of an entertaining evening. The thought brought a smile to his face; he never could resist a challenge. His phone rang again, making him scowl, and he snatched it out of his pocket. “What?”

“Where the fuck are you? We’re like sitting ducks out here.”

Nathan glanced up. The pull of the moon, although not as strong as yesterday, still made his blood sing. “Almost there. Where’s Alec? I thought he was on backup tonight.”

“He’s on his way with his team. You’re just added security until he gets here, so hurry the fuck up.”

The line went dead and Nathan shoved the phone in his back pocket, then broke into a run. Daryl had sounded pissed off, but also tense. Something had him spooked.

They’d broken down in a shitty area, but from what Daryl had said, they were still on neutral territory. So long as they stayed that side of the Strand, they should be safe.

He ran down Garrick Street, alert for anything other than the usual Friday night crowds out for a good time. The abundance of noise and smells made it difficult to single out individual scents or sounds, but Nathan did his best. The faint scent of pack drifted into his lungs and he bit back a snarl at the undertones of fear and panic.

Daryl’s van was parked halfway down King Street. The dead end made Nathan nervous—limiting the options for escape should it be necessary. Not the best place to break down. Already on edge, Nathan stuck close to the row of shops as he jogged towards the van, senses on high alert. Nothing appeared wrong or out of place on the surface, but he had a bad feeling.

People moved out of his way, even with the drunk ones some sixth sense told them he was dangerous. Shifters were a common enough occurrence on the streets these days, but unless they wore a badge declaring themselves, humans never knew how many roamed amongst them.

Nathan knew. As did the rest of his pack.

They had territories. Every pack did, but it was next to impossible to live in London and not cross into each other’s space. Treaties existed for that reason, allowances made for certain pack members to cross the borders at specified times. Some areas were neutral: Covent Garden, Soho, Oxford Street—all prime locations that every pack coveted but had agreed to share. If one tried to claim them, the others would unite and retaliate as a whole. It wasn’t worth the risk even to try.

Daryl leaned against the side of the van, smoking a cigarette. The same build as Nathan—tall and imposing, his shaved head made him look ten times more threatening. To most people he appeared calm as he waited, maybe even bored, but Nathan caught the tense set to his shoulders, the vein pulsing double time in his neck. Daryl glanced over when Nathan got within ten feet, and he nodded in greeting. “Nate.”

“Daryl.” Nathan glanced at the van door as it swung open, and Ben got out to join them.

Daryl was a beta and reported directly to Cam, the alpha of their pack. Ben was a member of Daryl’s unit.

Nathan asked, “How long till Alec gets here?”

“Ten minutes.” Ben glanced between the two of them. He stood a head shorter, curly blond hair and dimples gave him an angelic appearance that couldn’t be further from the truth. Nathan had witnessed him rip out another shifter’s throat the last time they were in a fight. With Ben out with Daryl, Nathan wondered why they would need him as backup.

The van’s front tyre was obviously flat. Nathan walked past Ben and Daryl to kick it. “Why didn’t you change it?”

“Oh, why didn’t we think of that?” Daryl rolled his eyes, his tone laced with sarcasm. He pointed over the bonnet of the van with his thumb. “Other one’s flat too.”

“Fuck.” Flat tyres happened, but two? Nathan glanced up and down the street again. No wonder Daryl was so tense. “Did you see what did it?”

Ben shook his head. “Nope. We got out to check, but there’s nothing. Too many scents to distinguish one from the other.”

Nathan nodded. The smells surrounding him played havoc with shifter senses—the only reason he picked out Daryl was because the pack scent was ingrained in his bones. He could pick it out anywhere.

Daryl flicked his cigarette butt onto the ground and stood on it. “Plenty of shifters around tonight. Can’t tell which packs, though.”

Nathan hummed in agreement. He thought he’d caught the odd scent in the club, but as distracted as he’d been then, he couldn’t be sure. “Call Alec again—”

They turned as one to face the end of the street as the sudden scent of shifter assaulted their senses, too strong to ignore.

“Shit.” Daryl cursed too quietly for anyone but Ben and Nathan to hear, but Nathan thought he saw one of the three strangers smiling as they approached.

The odds were evenly matched, three against three, but no shifter liked fighting in public. The police tended to stay out of pack fighting unless humans were injured or put at risk. Starting something there with so many humans around was asking for trouble.

And this is neutral ground, for fuck’s sake. What the hell is their problem?

“Thoughts?” Daryl kept his eyes on the approaching shifters as he spoke. They would hear their conversation soon, if they couldn’t already.

“Too many people close by for a fight. Let’s see what they want.” Nathan scented the air, trying to get a read on what pack they belonged to, but they smelled strange—familiar, yet not. “Besides, if they wanted to take us out, they’d send more than three.” He glanced behind them as a black SUV pulled onto the street, and wanted to kick himself.

Daryl shook his head. “Shit, Nate. You had to say it, didn’t you.”

The SUV screeched to a halt sideways on in front of them, scattering people everywhere and effectively clearing the street. No doubt numerous calls to the police were being made, but by the time they got there, it would be all over one way or another.

“We have another beta and his unit on their way. You don’t want to start this.” Daryl didn’t raise his voice, but the SUV driver’s side door cracked open.

No one got out, but mocking laughter came from within. “Oh, we’ll be done with you before Alec gets here.”

Daryl bristled at the mention of Alec’s name. No one outside the pack knew who was on backup patrol. Nathan didn’t know which was more worrying—the fact that these strange shifters knew, or that they didn’t care about keeping it secret. No survivors, then.

They couldn’t have expected Nathan to be there, though. It wasn’t usual practice to call in extra help in the neutral zone, and that might be the one thing they had going for them.

Two shifters got out of the SUV, and from the ever so slight pause, Nathan guessed he was right. He made it three against five, and those odds were a hell of a lot better than two against five.

“Ben, with Nathan. I’ll take the SUV.” As soon as the words left Daryl’s mouth, the three of them shifted.

Nathan’s shirt tore across his shoulders as his bones stretched and realigned. His jaw cracked, his teeth and claws extended, and a surge of raw power coursed through his veins. The half-shift wasn’t pretty or hot, as romanticised accounts would have people believe. It was harsh and nasty, a distorted version of a wolf’s head on a hunched-over human body—large hands with deadly razor-sharp claws in place of nails. Enhanced senses were there all the time, as well as strength, in shifted form or not. But whatever happened, whatever chemical transformation took place inside them, the half-shift made them even stronger.

Superhuman.

Despite the agony of bones being broken and stretched to their limits, Nathan felt more alive in this form than any other, as though his body was finally allowed to do what it was made for.

Roars of intent filled the night air. The street became a blur of movement as eight shifters converged on one another.

Surging forward, aware of Ben on his right-hand side, Nathan swiped his arm out in a wide semicircle, catching bone and flesh as his claws ripped through the advancing shifters. He spun a guy around, still impaled on his claws, and slammed him up against the side of the van. “What pack?” Nathan growled around his teeth, the words slurred together.

The guy laughed, the sound distorted, showing off bloodstained teeth. “Fuck off.”

Nathan slid his claws up, tearing him open more. He didn’t want to kill him, but he would. “What pack?”

Nathan saw the guy’s gaze dart to the left a second too late and a sharp, searing pain tore across his back. He howled, let the guy against the van drop to the floor, and spun around to face his attacker.

Ben had made a mess of him already by the looks of it. Shifters healed quickly, but the one in front of Nathan was covered in blood with five deep cuts across his chest. One eye was completely gone—there’d be no healing that—and his thigh was open to the bone. The wounds would knit together when their bodies rested, but not while they were fighting. Nathan lunged at him, ignoring the pain and the sticky wetness running down his back. He went straight for his leg.

Nathan snapped the bone clean in two. A piercing howl filled the air, but the shifter still managed to catch Nathan’s arm as he went down: a quick twist and squeeze of his hand, and Nathan felt his wrist break.

Fuck, that hurt.

Cradling his wrist, Nathan stepped over his fallen opponent’s crumpled body, shot a quick glance over to check Daryl was okay, then went to help Ben.

As a beta, Daryl had that extra level of strength and speed, and for now he was holding his own against the two from the SUV.

Ben wasn’t faring quite so well. His arm hung limply by his side, and a disturbing amount of blood was pooling on the ground beside him. The two-on-one situation he’d been in had obviously taken its toll. The other guy wasn’t in much better shape, but was strong enough to tackle Ben and pin him to the ground. He raised his hand, bloody claws ready to take out Ben’s throat.

As he swung his arm down for the killing blow, Nathan sprang forward.

Ignoring the hot flare of pain in his wrist, Nathan broke the guy’s neck in one swift move and stepped back, letting the body slump to the side. “You okay?” Nathan winced at the growing blood pool under Ben. They needed to get him somewhere safe so he could heal.

“Been better.” A cough tore through Ben, and he hissed in obvious agony.

A dark blue van turned into the street, speeding up as its headlights washed over them. Daryl, now back in his human form, stood over the bodies of the two shifters from the SUV. He turned to Nathan with a grimace. “Alec’s here.”