Wild Blood: The Trueborn Saga Book 1 Read online

  I give him what he wants and launch myself straight at him. The girl is smart enough to take the opportunity to flee, and I register her movements out of the corner of my eye as she jumps to her feet and takes off through the darkness back toward the bar. Good. Cooper will find her and get her away from here, since she doesn't need to see what's coming next.

  I barrel into him, sending him sprawling across the forest floor and right into a thick tree trunk. It doesn't even phase him. He bounces off of it and rolls to his feet, ripping his jacket and shirt off and howling in rage-filled agony as his body changes. His ears become elongated and leathery, and his jaw is now a muzzle filled with jagged dripping fangs. Patchy bits of fur push out from his graying sickly skin. I watch clawed feet burst out of the tips of his shoes.

  He's not a true werewolf, not a trueborn like me, but a misshapen humanoid monster made from some unholy black magic pact with a conjured demon that's neither wolf nor man. They're an anathema to my kind, and our mortal enemy. I have no choice now, even if I didn't want to kill him. He's seen me, and if he gets away, more of his kind will come. They'll know our pack is here. I can't let that happen. He's a demonborn, a fucking disease, and the wolf and I are in full accord. He has to die.

  He comes at me in a rush, claws out and mouth gaping. He's all monster now, his humanity wiped away by the bloodthirsty demon riding him. I have the advantage now since the beast and man inside me are two equal parts of a whole. The mind and reason of the man seamlessly melded with the wolf's instincts and physical prowess to our mutual benefit.

  I leap aside from his slashing claws and teeth. I don't want to get tagged, since any wound that he inflicts will take longer than normal to heal and hurt like a motherfucker. I plan to stay out of his reach and tire him out until an opportune moment presents itself. I'm fast and agile, my skill only surpassed by my little sister, Lyric, in her lithe and smaller wolf form. This won't take long.

  There are only two ways to kill him, rip out his heart or sever the spinal cord at the neck, the same as my kind. Anything else is merely a stopgap solution that will have him up and ready to kill again as soon as he heals, which doesn't take more than a day or two. The whole silver thing is complete bullshit for demonborn and trueborn alike. It was made up by some Hollywood script writer in the 40s, who also contrived all that crap about only being able to shift during a full moon. We can shift anytime, anywhere. The full moon just makes it easier to change, yet harder to control.

  He charges me again, and the fight begins in earnest. I circle him, dodging and twisting and dancing around him just out of reach as I toy with my prey. I give him a quick slash here, a bite there, as I test and wear down his defenses. His movements begin to grow clumsy, his reflexes slowing and losing their speed as blood sheets from the multiple open wounds I've given him. Oh yeah, here we go. I evade one last poorly executed lunge and seize my moment. I lash out as I sidestep out of the way, my teeth ripping into the back of his thigh, hamstringing him in one swift and decisive motion as he passes.

  His leg gives out, and he stumbles to his knees, roaring and snarling in pain fed rage as his eyes blaze a fiery red. I surge forward and take out the other leg an instant later, but not before a few flailing claws rake down the side of my ribcage. Fuck. It's not deep, thanks to my thick fur, but it hurts like hell and pisses me off. I'm fucking done. I'm on him again in an instant, claws digging into his back and teeth clamping down on the nape of his neck. One bite and a savage twist later, and the vile disgusting piece of shit goes still.

  I back away, my mouth, neck, and chest now covered in the thing's horrid tasting gore, and lift my head to let out a long and virile howl of triumph. They'll never touch her again. Never. And good fucking riddance. There are two less demonborn to walk the earth with a trail of dead bodies in their wake. Now I just need to get cleaned up in the creek that I can hear and smell nearby, and then shift and hunt down my clothes before I go back to find Cooper and officially introduce myself to my mate.

  5

  RAVEN

  Fear drives my harried footsteps as I stumble my way through the trees and underbrush, desperate to get away from the nightmare I just left behind me. The same nightmare that's convinced me that I must be going crazy. Not only could I swear I saw that creep's eyes glowing red yet again, which couldn't possibly be real, but I also saw what had to be an honest-to-God wolf the size of a small bear looming in the darkness.

  The huge animal just showed up out of nowhere, and that lunatic didn't even have the sense to be afraid of it. What the hell? I just hope I can get away from here before that thing finishes the guy off and then comes for me. I'm not even worried about the other creepy biker finding me anymore now. I feel an itchy disturbing sensation between my shoulder blades, like there's a bull's-eye painted on my back for the wolf to hone in on. The fear spikes and I pick up my pace, glancing backwards to be sure it's only my imagination, and some slavering beast isn't coming up behind me ready to pounce.

  That's when I slam into a big hard body for the second time tonight. Arms like steel bands close around me and keep me from falling on my ass. No. No, no, no. Not again. I panic and start to struggle as I suck in a lung full of air to scream bloody murder.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa," a familiar male voice says. "Take it easy. I'm not going to hurt you."

  I glance up and can just make out the face looking down at me in the dim moonlight. I see dark eyes, dark hair, and a scruffy beard, then sag in relief. Oh thank God. It's one of the nice guys from the bar.

  His hands come up to rest on my upper arms in a comforting grip as his features fill with concern. "Are you alright?"

  "There's...there's..." I babble out as I frantically point behind me. Shit, I can't even spit out the words to describe what I just saw back there.

  A long terrifying howl suddenly rips through the night. A tiny pathetic squeak spills out of my mouth as I press closer to my savior, like he'd stand a chance against an animal of that size any better than I would. His face pops up, and he stares off behind me with a fierce expression.

  "Let's get you out of here," he says in a low growl.

  I nod jerkily, because I'm all for that.

  "Come on." He turns and ushers me in the direction I hope is the bar, where I've just now decided that I no longer work.

  We make it several yards before I jerk to a stop with a gasp. "Luna," I blurt out. "She's hurt, and I have to find her."

  "Who?" he asks as he looks back at me questioningly.

  "My dog," I clarify. "I...I think he might have killed her." My voice is choked and wavering with emotion.

  Without a word he faces forward, his head cocking to the side as he takes a long breath in through his nose. What the hell is he doing? He nods, then looks back at me and says, "I'll find her."

  He takes off again, veering to the left like he knows exactly where he's going. He's moving too fast for me to catch up to him, and I scramble after him the best I can. What feels like an eternity later, he abruptly stops, and I rush up next to him and gasp at what I see.

  My Luna is lying there on her side in front of us, alive but clearly in serious trouble. She's crying and whining softly, her breathing rapid and shallow as she struggles to breathe. She sees me and her crying gets louder, and she starts weakly dragging herself toward me. I rush forward, a guttural sob tearing loose from my mouth as I drop down next to her.

  "Luna," I whimper. "My poor baby."

  Tears stream down my cheeks. I reach out to cradle her head in my hands, and she starts licking me frantically. Her pale eyes are big and wild, and I can tell she's in pain. I want to gather her up into my arms and comfort her, but I'm too scared to touch her anywhere else.

  "Luna," I choke out as my vision blurs. Pain grips my heart, and I hunch forward over her in agony. I did this. I brought her here. This is all my fault, and now she's going to die.

  "No, she's not," a gruff vehement voice says from right in front of me because apparently, I unknowingly voiced m
y thoughts out loud.

  I look up through a curtain of tears to find the other guy from the bar kneeling on the other side of Luna. His gorgeous ice-blue eyes are filled with sympathy and a warmth I feel to the depths of my soul. I don't understand it, but I can't manage the energy to wonder about it, or figure out why his hair is wet and his shirt clings to his damp upper body either.

  "My mom's a vet," he tells me. "She'll fix her up."

  Hope blossoms inside me like a beacon of light. "She...she will?"

  He nods with certainty. "She's the best."

  "Okay," I agree with a jerking nod, desperate to save Luna.

  I reach for my dog to pick her up, but he stops me with a gentle hand on my forearm. Electric heat instantly shoots up my arm from the point of contact and floods my body. My heart stutters and skips a beat. My eyes lock onto his, and I swear they flash with silver. I'm sucked in all over again, just like in the bar, my body yearning for his, longing to get closer. I unconsciously lean toward him and hear a low growl that I shockingly realize is coming from him.

  "Emmett!" a voice snaps out sharply behind me, pulling me from the spell I'm under. Shit, I'd forgotten all about the other guy who found my Luna for me.

  The man, who I now know as Emmett, jerks his hand from my arm and pulls his eyes away from mine. I feel bereft, and blink away the disconcerting weirdness from a moment ago. Before I can even contemplate it, Emmett leans over Luna and gingerly scoops her up into his strong muscular arms. I stare in wonder as he lifts her up like she weighs nothing, and stands. Luna whines and starts licking every inch of Emmett that she can reach.

  "Where's your car?" he asks.

  "Um...behind the bar," I answer as I rise to my feet.

  He nods and looks at his friend. He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, while holding Luna securely in one arm, and pulls out a set of keys.

  "Call Wyatt and Scarlett," Emmett says as he tosses them to the other guy. His expression is grave and pointed, and communicates something far deeper that I don't care to try to interpret right now.

  "I'll take care of it." He nods stiffly and rushes away into the darkness.

  Without another word, Emmett takes off with Luna, and I run after him. He makes a beeline through the woods until we emerge right next to the small employee parking area behind Rowdy's Tavern. I hear sirens in the distance, probably responding to the bar brawl going on inside. One of them is most likely my father. Shit. I quicken my pace and come up beside him. We really need to get out of here. Now.

  "Which one?" he asks.

  "Uh...the truck." I point at my dingy gray Ford Ranger.

  We hurry over to it, and I pull out my keys to unlock the doors. Emmett rounds the vehicle to the passenger side. "Get in," he orders, and I open the door and comply.

  As soon as I'm seated and belted in, he carefully lowers a whimpering Luna onto my lap. Fear grips my heart again as I cradle her against me, my tears dripping into her soft fur. I'm vaguely aware of Emmett getting in behind the wheel and starting the truck, then driving us out of the parking lot and onto the road. I can see flashing blue and red lights appear ahead of us in the distance. Emmett swears, then abruptly turns onto the next crossroad and guns the engine, speeding away from the bar as fast as my little truck can manage. Getting stopped by the cops is the last thing we need, especially if my father really is one of them.

  He pulls out his phone as he glances in the rear-view mirror, his demeanor relaxing when he sees that there aren't any blue and red lights following us. His fingers move over the screen, and then he brings it up to his ear.

  "Mom, I need your help," he says a moment later. "I've got an injured dog, and I'm heading to the clinic." He nods at whatever reply he's getting. "Okay, I'll see you there."

  He ends the call and shoves the phone back in his pocket. I watch him drive with his hands wrapped tightly around the wheel, his body rigid and seemingly on edge with his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Several minutes pass in tense silence as he takes a few more turns and brings us back to the road that leads toward Wolcott. Finally, he takes in a long breath, his eyes fluttering slightly, and then it shudders out of his lungs as his body starts to relax. His hands loosen on the wheel as he continues staring straight ahead. I realize that he hasn't looked at me once since getting into the truck.

  "I'm Emmett, by the way," he says gruffly, still not looking at me. "Emmett Weylin."

  "I'm Raven Cade," I reply, unable to stop watching him.

  He's beautiful. The most handsome man I've ever seen. I glance down his torso and still when I see a couple of long dark lines in the fabric of his shirt that look like they could be blood. I gasp.

  "You're hurt," I blurt out.

  Emmett reaches down to touch the wounds on the side of his torso and shakes his head. "It's nothing," he explains with a shrug. "Got it from a tree branch while I was chasing off that do-ragged fucker that followed you out of the bar."

  "You went after him for me?" I ask with a perplexed expression. "You don't even know me."

  He finally glances my way as he pulls the truck to a stop at an intersection. His gaze seems to look right into my soul, contradicting my last statement. A fierce rumbling growl bubbles up from his chest.

  "I couldn't let anyone hurt you," he replies roughly. His eyes seem to gleam silver again in the darkness as they trail downward, heating with arousal right along with my body.

  A small moan escapes my lips, and he answers with a low feral growl that heats my blood even more. I want him. I want him, and I don't even know him. It freaks me out, and I rip my eyes away to focus on Luna again. What is wrong with me? All I should care about right now is my poor dog.

  Emmett sighs softly and drives us through the intersection. We hit a hard bump, and Luna cries out in pain.

  "It's okay, girl," I say soothingly as I caress her head. She licks my hand and settles again, but her breathing is still labored, and it scares me to death.

  "We're almost there," Emmett reassures me.

  He lifts his left hand off the wheel and reaches out toward me like he's going to touch me, but then pulls it back instead and fists it in his lap. Hard tension fills his body yet again as stark disappointment floods me. I turn away and shake my head. None of anything that's happened tonight makes any sense to me. I close my eyes and try to hold myself together, feeling overwhelmed and confused by the riot of emotions bouncing around inside my head.

  "We're here," Emmett says a few moments later, breaking me out of my internal wig out.

  I open my eyes, just as he's pulling off the road into the lot of a small beige stucco building with a blue metal roof. The inside is lit up, and I can see a figure standing just inside the glass doors. Emmett pulls right up to the entrance as the figure bursts out of the building. A moment later, a woman is pulling open the passenger door of my truck. Concerned golden-brown eyes meet mine behind steel-framed cat-eye glasses. A cloud of sleep tousled dark-blond curls surround a kind face, and she's dressed in rumpled clothing that must have been hastily pulled on.

  "What happened?" she asks in a brisk no-nonsense tone.

  "She was kicked," I tell her in a wavering voice.

  Her eyes harden in fierce and righteous anger as Emmett comes up behind her.

  "I'll get her, Mom," he announces brusquely.

  She steps aside and he carefully lifts Luna out of the truck, and I climb out behind him and follow. Luna starts crying again as Emmett carries her toward the building, and a harsh and wrenching sob suddenly bursts free from my chest.

  "What's her name, sweetie?" the woman asks, her voice calm and soothing. She wraps a comforting arm around me and pulls me along with her when my steps falter.

  "Luna," I whimper out pathetically.

  "And yours?"

  "Raven."

  "Alright, Raven," she says firmly and confidently. "I'm Dr. Cadie, and I'm going to fix your baby up, and she's going to be fine. Okay?"

  I nod, unable to speak as she steers me into the build
ing right on Emmett's heels.

  Please God, let her be right. Please don't let her just be placating me to protect me from the truth, because I couldn't live with myself if my own stupidity and cowardice cost my Luna her life.

  6

  EMMETT

  Being in the same room with Raven is fucking with my head. The wolf in me is attracted to everything about her, her name, her scent, her face, her body. He wants us to touch her, hold her, comfort her, kiss her. Right now. So does the man in me, but he knows that doing that would freak her out, but fuck if the compulsion is hard to ignore. Try telling that to my demanding wolf side that's instinct-driven and just wants what he wants.

  I'm currently standing as far away from the girl as I can get in the small exam room I just brought her dog into a few moments ago. I laid the husky gently on the metal exam table when I first came in here, then backed away to give Mom room to work. Raven pushed past me to get to her dog then, and her lusciously sweet scent had me backing away even more until I found myself in the corner. Now I'm starting to tremble with need and want, and I clench my hands into fists as I struggle to control it. Between this and being so close to her warmth and scent in that truck while I drove us here, I'm on the edge of giving in to the wolf. I should leave the room, but my feet feel glued to the floor. She's crying and hurting, and I don't want to leave her. My heart aches as I watch her murmuring words of apology to her dog between sobs while she softly caresses the animals head.

  Thankfully, Raven isn't paying any attention to see me since she's understandably fixated on her dog right now, but Mom notices my struggle. She glances over at me while running her hands gently over the dog, and a worried frown creases her forehead. She may not have the senses of a werewolf, but any fool can still tell I'm in a bad way right now.