Read Saved by Wolves (Shifters Meet Their Mate Book 1) Online
Authors: Elena Hunter
Saved by Wolves (Shifters Meet Their Mate Book 1)
SAVED BY WOLVES
Shifters Meet Their Mate
Elena Hunter
Published by Out There Publishing, 2016.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SAVED BY WOLVES
First edition. August 7, 2016.
Copyright © 2016 Elena Hunter.
Written by Elena Hunter.
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Excerpt
M
arcus
Jealousy wasn’t an emotion he was used to, and Marcus didn’t like the way it burned through his body and made his teeth clench. Outside, in the crisp morning air, he took a deep breath and held it, attempting to think rationally. He’d really only known Kirra for two days. He’d extended his protection to her, but that didn’t mean he had a claim on her. She could kiss anyone she wanted, and it shouldn’t affect him at all.
Visions of her kissing a parade of handsome men danced in his head, and Marcus felt his body shifting, morphing into his Wolf form in a response to the threat he felt. Taking another deep breath, and another, he forced his body to remain in human form.
It was time to face facts. The contentment he’d felt when she’d chosen to kiss him, and the fury that consumed him when Jackson had taken advantage of her, neither emotion was going to go away anytime soon. He wanted her. He wanted her more than anything he’d ever wanted in the world before, and when the scent of her arousal had smashed into him with the force of a freight train at dinner the night before, it had just reinforced his feelings.
She was going to be his.
––––––––
J
ackson
Frustration and anger roiled through Jackson, spiking when Kirra gazed up at him, acting innocent as a mouse right before it was taken down by a house cat. He took a long slow breath, trying to control his temper and slow his raging heart rate. It didn’t help.
“You ran off in the middle of the night without telling anyone where you were going. If we hadn’t followed you, you could be dead.” A crushing weight pressed down on him at the thought, leaving him lightheaded. He gritted his teeth and focused.
Frowning, Kirra tapped her fingers against his chest. “Okay, I admit it. It was stupid of me to go off on my own. But in my defense, I thought this was Wolf territory. I had no idea the Cats would track me here. And I really need to talk to the council.”
If she was trying to placate him, she wasn’t doing a very good job. He traced a finger along her throat, following the raised red welt that Lash’s claw had left. An inch deeper and...
Ducking her head, Kirra swallowed hard and her lips parted. Under his touch, her pulse picked up, and her breath came faster, deeper. He nudged her head back up and met her eyes, reading uncertainty, wariness, and desire in their depths. And trust.
The combination did him in.
She could have died. The thought was unbearable. He’d never allow such a thing to happen again.
Mine. The word reverberated in his head, crowding out all other thoughts. His Wolf howled in agreement, urging him on.
She was meant to be his.
He crushed his mouth down on hers.
O
ne step outside the third-story walk-up she shared with her sister, Kirra knew something was wrong. The energy was... off, and her neck tickled with the familiar sensation of someone watching.
An automatic scan of the street below revealed three parked cars that hadn’t been there the night before. All had tinted windows. A woman, lean everywhere except around her torso, stood by one, casually talking on her cell phone. Her eyes weren’t casual, though. They moved back and forth, never settling on anything for more than an instant. No one else was visible, but Kirra was sure the apartment was surrounded. Strike teams usually had at least six people. Fumbling in her purse, she pretended she’d forgotten something, reentered the apartment, and locked the door, using all three deadbolts.
“That was quick,” Francesca said, barely glancing up from the textbook she was studying. “Not even I can pick out a dress that fast.” Her sister was in the living room to the left of the entranceway, reading by the light of a bright lamp. The curtains were still drawn across the window, thank goodness.
“Forget the dress.” Kirra opened the closet by the front door and pulled out two small packs that strained at the seams.
“I know you don’t like wearing one, but you can’t go to an engagement party in your jeans... What are you doing?”
“We’ve got to go. They found us.”
“They? Blackstone? It’s been four years. How did they find us this time?”
“I don’t know, but they’re on the street outside the apartment right now. Three cars and a woman with Kevlar on under her suit.”
Francesca set her book on a side table and grabbed the crutch leaning against her armchair, levering herself to her feet. In the week since she’d broken her left leg, she’d gotten better at moving around, but she still moved at the speed of a snail as she made her way to the front window. Using two fingers, she pulled back the curtain an inch.
“Damn it, you’re right. You need to get out of here. Take the roof.”
Kirra adjusted the straps of her pack over her shoulders and held Francesca’s by the loop at the top. “You mean we need to get out of here. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Francesca made a helpless gesture with her free hand, motioning towards her cast. “I’d never make it, Kirra.”
“Of all the lousy times to break your leg.”
“It’s not like I planned it.” Francesca continued monitoring from the window. “There are three teams getting into position—one right ahead and two flanking the building. Another team will be at the back. They’re organized; I think they’re just waiting for a signal before they come up. I’ll hold them off as long as I can to give you time. They want us alive, so that’ll slow them down.”
“If you’re staying, I am too.”
“That’s stupid. If they get both of us, we’re done. You need to get out of the city. If they found the apartment, that means they found out at least one of our identities. You know the drill. New town, new job, new name.”
“I’m not leaving you behind.” Tears thickened her voice, and Kirra cleared her throat. “I can’t let them just take you.”
“You have to. This is why we made emergency plans.” Francesca’s voice was calm and reasonable, and Kirra wanted to shake her.
“They’re crossing the street,” Francesca said. “Kirra...”
“What?”
“Lokston is out there.”
Lokston? Cold prickled her skin, and she tightened her fingers around the pack’s strap to control fingers that wanted to shake. If Lokston was outside, it meant the military was still in bed with Blackstone. Kirra ran to their heavy secondhand couch and pulled it toward the door, intending to create a barrier. Something to buy them time to think. To come up with a plan.
“Go,” Francesca said. “I’ve got it.” She hobbled back to her chair, angled it so it faced the door straight on, and sat, propping her leg up. White-blonde, wavy hair tumbled over her shoulders, and she brushed it out of her way with an absent gesture, eyes narrowing as she focused her power on the couch.
It slid across the floor on its own, neatly butting up against the door. Other furniture followed, until there was a dense barricade of wood and fabric.
Kirra closed the distance between them and caught her sister in a tight hug. “I’ll come for you,” she swore. “I’ll get you out.”
Francesca held her by the shoulders and pushed her back far enough to stare into her eyes. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. We barely got out the last time. There’s no way you can break me out by yourself.”
Shaking her head, feeling the burn of tears in her throat, Kirra stayed mute. That wasn’t a promise she could make. Francesca was her younger sister. Her responsibility.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs outside.
“Go,” Francesca said, sitting straight and throwing her shoulders back, eyes unwavering. She wasn’t budging.
Kirra took the ID out of Francesca’s pack and ran.
In the back bedroom, she slid the window open and checked out the alley below. An armed man stood to the left of the apartment building’s dumpster, angled to be out of sight of the back door. A woman was covering the right side. Kirra pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves she’d left by the window and hoisted herself onto the narrow ledge, twisting so she could lean out backwards. The weight of the pack pulled her toward the ground, and she grasped the edge of the window, fighting gravity.
A braided nylon rope—the type used by mountain climbers—hung down from the roof, its end tied to a hook beside the window so it wouldn’t swing if a gust of wind caught it. A knot studded the rope every two feet. She unwrapped the end from the hook and used the rope for stability as she forced her head and shoulders out the window and got her feet onto the sill, thankful she hadn’t dressed up to go shopping. Crawling through windows in jeans and sneakers was difficult. Doing it in a skirt and heels would have been a nightmare.
The sleeve of her windbreaker caught on the nail, and Kirra ripped it free, leaving a scrap of red fabric behind.
The crack of the apartment door splintering and voices yelling followed her as she climbed up the rope, using the knots for hand and foot holds.
At the top, she closed her right hand around one of the stakes they’d secured to the roof, and used it to help throw her body up and over the edge. Francesca had made her practice the maneuver dozens of times, until she could do it without thinking.
“Up there!” a man called out. “She’s getting away.”
“I see her,” a woman answered.
Kirra rolled to her feet and ran along the flat roof, heading for the west side. Something whizzed past her and skittered across the concrete. A dart. They were trying to tranq her. She hunched over to make herself a smaller target and sped up, leaping off the edge and bending her knees to absorb the impact when she landed on the neighbor’s roof.
She and Francesca had chosen their apartment partly for the quiet neighborhood, but mainly for the flat roofs in the area. Kirra made her way from one building to the next, acutely aware of the team on the ground tracking her. She should have switched jackets. The red was like a beacon for them to follow.
Eight buildings down, on the roof of the second last building before an intersection, she crossed to a padlocked hatch and pulled out her keys to unlock it. Taking the stairs two at a time, she made it to the parking garage in under two minutes. Getting out of the garage took another minute, and then she was on the street, using all her willpower to drive a shade under the speed limit, when she wanted to press the gas.
Three blocks from the garage, she picked up a tail. A grey car mimicked her every move, carefully staying two or three cars behind. They must have made her license plate as she drove off.
She sped up, passing cars and taking turns at breakneck speed. The grey car stayed with her, and a white van joined it. Outrunning them would be tough.
She needed to disable them.
Dark grey clouds hung heavy in the sky. They wouldn’t be the best source of power—in a few hours, when they developed into full-fledged thunderclouds, they’d be perfect—but they’d have to be enough. Extending her senses, Kirra pulled energy from the clouds until her body vibrated and her fingertips tingled.
It took all her concentration to receive the energy and stay on the road at the same time.
The white van gave up on subtlety and pulled out to pass her.
Kirra forced her energy out in a wave, directing it toward the van.
It sputtered and stalled, still facing oncoming traffic. Horns blared and cars came to a screeching halt.
Kirra pressed the gas, leaving the van behind. The grey car was still on her bumper. Shorting out the van’s battery had drained her, so she tried to pull more energy from the clouds. A mere trickle came in response, not nearly enough to work with.