Unchained (Dark Shifter Romance) (7 page)

Though that begged the question of what was going to happen after it ran out…

"Come on, let's get out of here.” Jack seemed to sense her mood, as if her gloominess tainted the cute little kitchen of the house. Lacey let herself be led back out into the daylight, trying to shake the feeling of melancholy and doubt that was spreading through her.

The two of them headed back towards the cabin in the woods, until, without warning, Jack froze.

Lacey whipped her head around, staring at the forest that surrounded them. She wanted to ask him what he had heard, but she didn't want to break the fragile silence. In the overwhelming quiet, she strained her ears to take full awareness of the scene: the quiet whisper of the wind in the leaves, the small pleasant noises of the woodland birds, and the sound of heartbeats, almost terrifyingly loud in the silent scene...

Wait, heartbeats? Lacey's hand flew up to her chest, pressing down over her sternum. She could feel the fluttering of her pulse, her heart beating hard under the skin of her palm. But that wasn't all. Somehow she could feel something else there along with it, something that wasn't part of her, but felt almost as if it was…

For one dizzying moment she had the sense of duplication, of being into two, but then Jack turned, staring in one direction, and the moment was broken, yet again.

"Stay here," he growled abruptly, and then, without waiting for her response, he sprang off into the trees.

Lacey stared at the space where Jack had been, her mind racing. He had made her promise to obey his commands when she'd come along with him… But she’d never been the obedient type, and this time was no exception. Squaring her shoulders, she began to follow him.

It should have been difficult-- impossible, even. Jack was now out of sight in a forest that she didn't know. She'd never been a Girl Scout, let alone learnt how to track people like they did in the movies, locating every broken twig and slightly bent blade of grass. But something was telling her which way to go, some invisible compass leading the way between her and him.

What was happening? Jack had warned her that she was going to transform, but feeling the change creep over her in bits and pieces was strange. She had pictured her brain being lifted cleanly from her human body and dropped into the body of a wolf, not...
this
. New senses were creeping into her, anchoring themselves in her flesh-- the feeling that told her which way to go, and that sensation of another heartbeat beating strongly alongside hers…

The strange magnetic pull that was buried deep inside her chest let her straight to Jack. She caught sight of him first, his back turned towards her as he regarded something on the ground ahead of him, tension etched into every hard line of his body. He looked almost scared, and she crept closer, her feet moving silently through the leaf litter even in the heavy ill-fitting boots she was wearing.

As she watched the scene ahead of her, Jack took a slow step forward, almost staggering. He crossed the small clearing in which he was standing, and then all at once, dropped to his knees. Lacey stifled a sound of surprise. He may have been yards away from her, with his back to her even, but it was still the most emotion she'd seen in the man, even overpowering that warm, shy smile given her in the backyard of the house they'd pillaged.

She moved forward, and finally saw what it was that he had spotted.

In the leaf litter ahead of him laid a wolf. Her body tensed, ready to run or fight, but then she saw the stillness, and knew that it was no threat. Even from this distance she could tell that it was in no mood to fight. The wind changed, and she caught the sharp metallic tang of blood in the air, telling her all that she needed to know. It was wounded— badly.

Jack said something, the words muffled by the distance between the two of them, and reached out a hand. He touched the wolf, sliding his strong hands through its fur, as if embracing a friend. Lacey felt the urge to look away, like she'd invaded something deeply intimate that she had no right to lay eyes on.

Suddenly, the wolf twitched. Lacey let out a gasp, too keyed up to prevent it tearing itself out of her. She knew that Jack must've heard her, the sound of her voice unmistakable to normal human hearing, let alone his enhanced wolf senses, but he paid no attention to her. He leant down sharply, burying both hands in the wolf's fur, bending his head to its own. "Mark," he she heard him say, his voice tinged with longing and desperation and, strikingly, fear. "Mark, it's me. Get up! Get up, damn you!"

The wolf let out a thin whine, little more than a whimper. Jack redoubled his efforts, pressing his forehead against the wolf, his hands knotting pleadingly in its thick, bloodied fur. "Get up," he snarled. "I'm here, it's me, and I'm ordering you to get up!"

The injured wolf let out another whine, and Lacey heard Jack make a small, broken sound. There was one strange moment of flesh moving, two forms blending together, and then where Jack had knelt, stood another wolf. Jack's wolf nuzzled his injured friends, and finally, Lacey saw the other wolf slide an eye open, meeting Jack's pleading gaze with a tired yellow stare.

Slowly, being urged along by body contact with Jack's wolf, the new wolf slowly got to its feet. Lacey winced as the full extent of its injuries became apparent. She wasn't familiar with dogs, let alone diagnosing any injuries they might suffer, but she was fairly certain that the large ragged wound that crippled its hind leg hadn't been the product of being hit by a car. Small wounds seem to pepper the wolf's body, bite marks thick around its neck, rusty dried blood staining the silvery white of its fur.

The wolf took another step, and the pleading fear radiating from Jack's body turned to a sort of hope. A moment later, the wolf collapsed back down to the ground in a heap. Lacey wanted nothing more than to cross the small clearing and to be there for Jack, soothing him with her touch, but he didn't seem interested in giving up on the wolf just yet.

With another one of those strange shifting movements, the likes of which Lacey doubted she would ever get used to, Jack was back up again on two human feet. He knelt down and tucked the wolf into his arms as if the large creatures weighed nothing at all, cradling it to its chest, and then turned. His eyes found Lacey instantly, and his expression was as cold as it had been the first time she'd woken up in the cabin, as if he were a complete stranger to her yet again. She felt that coldness like a slap to the face.

"I’m taking him back," he said. "Come."

He'd said he had been an alpha, hadn't he? And if Lacey had managed to get away from Colt and his wolves, it made sense that another shifter should have been able to as well. Lacey thought that she should have been happy for Jack, finding out that not all of his pack had been murdered in front of him. Someone had survived, and that was a thing to celebrate.

As she watched Jack head through the woods without any regard to her, every line of his body closed off to her in some indescribable way, she felt something queasy twist her guts.

How had got away? Jack's mind raced as he thought back over the events of that night. Each memory was as painful as if it was happening to him over again, every scream and yelp from his pack lancing into him like a spear. He was sure that he had heard Mark go down, catching a glimpse of that white fur fatally marred with lethal blows. But he’d managed to get away!

Jack's heart leapt. If Mark had got away, did that mean…

No. He shook his head. He had to fight back the urge to give into false hope. It had been a miracle that Mark had managed to get away, and that was that. His pack was not about to emerge from the shadows, those familiar faces smiling warmly, each telling him stories of their miraculous escapes.

Kneeling by the cabin table, he reached out and touched Mark’s knotted fur. Just this alone was a blessing, he knew.

That was, if Mark ever woke up.

Jack was dimly aware that Lacey was sitting back on her bed, watching him warily from across the room like it was that very first day again. He didn't spare a thought for her. He
couldn't
spare a thought for her. He'd been so blinded with crazed sorrow for the loss of his pack that he'd tried to drown herself himself in her presence, but now Mark was back. Jack could feel his pack sense alongside him once again, the faint and trembling shadow of what had previously been. It was no surprise that he'd overlooked it before, he realised. The aching loss of his pack had been a supersonic boom deep down his soul, easily drowning out the tiny thin connection he had to Mark, deeply wounded.

Mark twitched again. Jake held his breath, trying not to hope, but Mark failed to wake from his sleep. They were grievous wounds, the marks of a pack of shifters that had set out to kill, and Jack's hands knotted on the edge of the table. The wounds were bad, sure, but he knew that Mark could get out of this. His wolf was near death, but if he could only get Mark’s attention, get him awake and looking at Jack, and command him to shift back to human form… His wolf might have been injured, but his human form would be uninjured. If Jack could just get him awake enough to transform back, he wouldn't die.

Maybe Mark would wake up on his own. Maybe his wolf would be just savvy enough to slip back into human form and save himself. But Jack didn't think that was very likely.

He couldn’t just let the last remaining survivor of his pack drift away like this. He
wouldn't
.

He stood up sharply, the squeak of his chair scraping against the floor eliciting a sharp inhalation from Lacey, behind him. He paid it no mind. Shrugging off his shirt, he placed it underneath Mark’s lupine head, acting as a sort of pillow. Then, he began to shift again.

Shifting so many times in such a short period was draining, but he viciously shoved down the feelings of exhaustion that began to nag at him. He dived into his wolf form, and let it take him.

When he opened his eyes as a wolf, things had changed. Shifting wasn't just moving between being a human body to a wolf one. Humans thought like humans because they had human instincts clouding their thoughts, and being a wolf was the same. When Jack opened his eyes again, his worry, his fear, his sick feelings of sorrow-- they were all gone. He was still aware of what was happening, still intelligent and alert, his brain moving quickly, but those feelings he'd had as a human… they just didn't bother the wolf in the same way.

His wolf knew that there was pack beneath his nose, sick and injured. All that his wolf wanted to do was to lie with them, to press his body against theirs in wordless support. Things would happen as they would, but his job was to be there for his pack, to comfort them if nothing else.

He stretched out alongside Mark, pressing his furred body up against the other wolf’s. Even through the thick coats separating the two of them, Mark still felt cold, the sharp tang of old blood filling Jack's senses and making him whine. He nuzzled Mark comfortingly, seeking some response, hoping that it was there.

He wasn't sure how long the two of them lay there together, side-by-side in the warmth of the sunbeam shining through the window. If he had been human, he knew he would have been going out of his mind, pacing the boards and flagellating himself with things he should have done, searching for a way to fix things.

Unlike his human side, his wolf knew exactly what to do: wait. It was good at that, waiting in the deep, patient way of woodland animals. There was nothing he could do to change this, just as there was no way he could change a storm bearing down upon them, or the slow change of season to season, time passing by. He couldn't change it, so he would just be there for Mark, comforting him.

He stayed like that for what felt like hours, his muzzle resting on his paws, the feel of Mark’s ribs lifting and falling in slow breaths against his own.

Then Mark’s shallow breaths were replaced by one, long, deep exhale.

In, out. And then nothing. Jack shut his eyes, not wanting to look. It was a childish gesture-- the monster under the bed won't get you if you just don't look at him, right?-- but he just wanted one more moment before facing the death of his pack mate.

Then Mark’s ribs heaved against his one more time, one more deep breath, then another, and another. Jack's eyes shot open and he looked over at the wolf beside him, and was rewarded by the sight of those bright yellow eyes staring back at him.

He wanted to jump about like a fresh pup. He wanted to lick Mark's face, welcoming him back, urging him upwards to play, to run, to frolic. Instead he rolled slightly, pressing his head against Mark’s in silent companionship, letting the other wolf get his bearings.

Mark’s shallow, sick breathing had been replaced by the deep breaths of the awakened. Slowly, leaning his weight against Jack as needed, he sat up a little.

It was good that it was that he was awake, but Jack knew that it meant nothing unless he could get Mark to change. Those wounds were bad, worse than he had the ability to treat in their tiny stolen cabin, too dire even for the accelerated healing of wolf shifters.

Whining softly, he pressed his nose to the shirt he had folded up and slid under Mark's head. If he had been trying to communicate with a human, it could have devolved into a game of charades, not understanding what he was getting at. But Mark was pack, and there was a deep bond between the two of them, expressing feelings and thoughts wordlessly, privately. Mark dropped his snout back down to the shirt, inhaling deep breath, scenting Jack's human form on the thin fabric. It was a lifeline, if only he could gather his strength to grasp it.

Jack held his breath, his wolf tense and waiting, and then Mark began to shift. It was tough, Mark shivering with exertion as he pushed his form from wolf to human, but in a few terrifying moments, the injured wolf was gone, replaced by an ordinary adult male human.

Mark dropped his head, exhausted even though the body he was in was not the one that had been injured. Jack trotted up in front of him, and Mark nuzzled his forehead against Jack, the way that Jack had done to him not too long. When he stepped back, Jack shook himself out of his wolf form and back into his human form. Wolves could communicate through the pack bond, but some things just needed words.

"I didn't expect…" Mark's voice cracked, as if he hadn't used it in a long time. "I got away from them, but too late. I thought I was gone for. I thought
you
were gone for."

Jack shook his head. "They wanted to keep me alive. Bastards wanted to torture me." He chuckled roughly, his voice scratchy. "I guess they didn't do a proper job of it, did they?"

Mark laughed, a wild, slightly manic sound. He clapped Jack on the back, and the heat of his touch, the presence of another of his pack, made Jack's heart leap for joy. "You think any of those sons of bitches can do anything properly? Hell no." He was pale, shaky, but he gave Jack a grin. "They didn't count on us being even tougher sons of bitches than they are."

For the next few minutes Jack filled him in, sound of their two voices mixing as they laughed and talked. It was euphoria, Jack thought, a wild joy, more primal than even the bond between man or woman. Pack was pack, and nothing was more important than that.

Belatedly, he remembered that they weren’t alone in the cabin. Jack turned his head to find Lacey staring at the two of them, drawn back up on the bed. A spike of something like regret lanced through him. The pose was the same one that she'd been in when she had woken up that first day, her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes bright with suspicion. She locked eyes with him, seeking something from him that he couldn't quite identify, let alone supply.

"Hey, who's that?" Mark said, and the spell was broken. Lacey dropped her chin back down to her knees, her expression shut down and carefully neutral. "I’m the girl Jack kidnapped," she said, her voice flat.

"Is that true?" Mark turned back to Jack, one eyebrow raised.

Jack shrugged uneasily. "Yeah, I… look, I'll tell you all about it." He got to his feet, offering a hand for Mark, who took it. "Want to stretch those human legs while I fill you in?"

"Sure," Mark said. "Lead on, boss."

If Jack's loss has been an all-encompassing, devouring thing, Mark’s renewed presence was like a lifeline. Jack laughed as the two of them made their way on a quick walk through the forest, chattering away about nothing in particular. Both knew that the other was suffering from loss of the pack, the shared grief hanging thick between them, but they both knew that there was no point in dwelling on it. For the moment, they together celebrated each other's continual existence. They had not forgotten their pack-- they would never forget their pack-- but for the moment, the best thing to do was to relish life instead of mourning the dead.

At least, that was what Jack wanted to do. Instead, a strange feeling began to creep up on him. Something very much like guilt was squirming in his guts, making him grind his teeth. With the loss of his pack still raw and bloody, he'd tried to force a rapid bond with the girl. Only time would tell whether or not it had successfully worked, but he'd welcomed it, even if it was just the vaguest pretence at pack. He'd needed someone to cling to in the wake of the massacre, and she'd been there, already tainted and needing a pack of her own.

But now he had Mark again, returned from the dead, and the strength of the bond was hard to compare. He'd known Mark for years, the two of them growing up together in the pack. The pack bond between them had been drowned out when Mark was near death, but now, restored to health and back at Jack’s side, it thrummed strong and vital between the two of them.

So why did it make Jack feel so uneasy?

"So who's the chick?" Mark asked, tilting his head towards the cabin in the distance. "She didn't seem real glad to see me."

Jack shrugged. "I don't think she minded you in particular," he explained. "I just… don't think she's happy to see any of my pack back."

Mark whistled low. "That's fucked up, man. What kind of person doesn't want to see a man reunited with his pack? Is she a loner or something?"

Lone wolves were uncommon, but they did happen. Being cast out of a pack was the worst punishment possible for a shifter, but one that had been handed out in the past. Jack had been lucky enough to never have to punish one of his pack members so severely, but he had heard of other alphas being forced to do so, and cast out shifters had occasionally made petitions to him, asking to be invited to his pack.

"Colt turned her."

That made even the normally jovial Mark stop in his tracks, staring at Jack wide-eyed. "You kidding me?" he asked, his voice incredulous. "That son of a bitch is taking trophies?"

"Yeah. She managed to get away from him, and I picked her up later." Jack shook his head at his own words. ‘Picked up’ was a neutral way of putting it.

"No shit." Mark sounded impressed. "You gonna use her as a bargaining chip or something like that?"

"No." Jack scrubbed a hand through his hair. He had to be honest with his pack, but it didn't mean that he was proud of what he was about to say. "I was to see if she would bond with me instead of Colt."

Mark stared at him, eyebrows raised. "No shit." His gaze slid back to the cabin, as if he was considering the person still inside of it. His normally open face turned into something more calculating, the wheels spinning as he thought his way through the problem his alpha had found himself in. "You’re trying to fill the gap," he said, thoughtfully.

Jack expected some hostility-- no shifter liked to feel like they were being replaced-- but Mark simply shook his head. "I get it, I get it. With the rest of us gone… Fuck, man. I'm not sure what I would have done in those circumstances."

"Yeah. I needed… I needed someone. There was no way that I could take on Colt in the condition that I was in.”

Mark turned back to him, whistling again. "You
are
planning on taking down the bastard? Excellent. There's my man." He looked back towards the cabin, nodding appreciatively. "Yeah, I see how it is. Take something away from Colt, and shore up your own crazy sadness at the same time. It makes sense. A very elegant solution."

It sounded so... cold. That was wrong. Everything about the girl had been anything but cold, those intense brown eyes and alpha fire getting under his skin.