Hunted Read online

  This wasn’t the time for sportsmanship or mercy; Sophia was outnumbered, and while she’d taken on these odds before, it was in a controlled training environment for werewolf soldiers. There was nothing controlled about the woman Sophia had pinned to the ground, who was trying to slash her throat with blood-tipped nails.

  Something hard slammed into Sophia’s back, knocking the wind from her lungs and giving the blonde the moment she needed to free herself. Turning around, Sophia saw the metal leg of her table had been bent to hit her. Now it was pressing hard against her abdomen, pinning her to the floor.

  One of the women could control metal, a common enough trait among the Fey.

  Sophia tried to pull metal leg up, but it wouldn’t budge. It only pressed harder against her, definitely tearing something in her midsection. Pain created spots in front of her eyes, and she fought to keep her consciousness. To pass out in the presence of these women would mean certain death.

  The brunette crouched down next to her and pressed something made of burning metal to the inside of her wrist, her long hair obscuring her face. Sophia felt her own skin give way, surrendering to the blistering heat. Over the stench of her burning skin, she smelled the very man she’d prayed to never see again: Kiril.

  This woman was his lover, his scent mingling with hers in a way no shower could remove. Is she his mate?

  “Keep away from Kiril and the Fey, and you might live,” was all the brunette said before she turned to leave the room. The two blondes supported each other as they followed. Sophia recognized the sound of her front door’s lock clicking into place before it closed shut.

  They were gone, and she was…stuck.

  Again she tried to pry the leg away from her middle, but it didn’t move so much as a millimeter. The faery must have strengthened it somehow, as Sophia could have usually bent the metal with relative ease.

  The vibrating sphere caught Sophia’s attention; it seemed to be shaking even more violently now, as if energy was building up inside it with nowhere to go. Sophia froze, her hands going limp against the table’s leg. It was a bomb, and now she couldn’t move to escape it.

  The towel had long been ripped away, now leaving her naked body almost completely exposed to whatever the bomb would bring. She grabbed everything within her reach—another picture frame, a lap desk and a bowl filled with Hershey Kisses—and covered her midsection and chest as best she could. She dumped the candy onto the floor, lifting the bowl to cover the majority of her face.

  For three minutes, Sophia did the only thing she could do—wait. Surely someone in her building would hear the explosion and come to help her. After all, all of its tenants were werewolf soldiers and their significant others.

  With no warning the sphere exploded, allowing its blinding white light to escape. It hit her arms first, like a severe sunburn Sophia couldn’t stop from progressing. She couldn’t see what it was doing to her, the bowl protecting her face blocking her direct vision, but she could have sworn she was on fire. She desperately wanted to see what was happening to her, what damage the fire crawling down her sides to her legs was causing.

  Sophia reached out her elemental ability, trying to coax the fire away from her so she could extinguish it. Nothing happened, meaning this wasn’t fire at all.

  She was helpless.

  The thought sent Sophia over the edge. Knowing in the back of her mind it would get her nowhere, she thrashed against the metal, throwing off the protective lap desk and sending waves of pain running down her body. She tossed the bowl from her face, instantly causing her eyes to burn. Before she covered her face with blistered hands, she caught a glimpse of her body.

  Her skin was ruined.

  She felt a single hot tear run down her cheek as she continued trying to forcibly wrench herself from captivity. Eventually the pain became too much, and the bright light her hands couldn’t completely hide faded to darkness.

  Chapter 2

  “NO, I’m not going to just take you to my coven.” Harry cocked a fire engine-red eyebrow. His expression was relaxed, but the color of his hair revealed his panic.

  Heath didn’t know why the witch’s hair revealed Harry’s emotions, but he wasn’t complaining—he would take any advantage he could get.

  “I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Heath promised, “but I need to find the witch who bound my powers; she may be the only one who can undo it.”

  “She may not want to undo the spell,” Harry muttered, his hair fading to a burnt orange. “Have you ever considered that we like having only powerless werewolves in our territory?”

  Looking out from his bay window into the brewery, his hair looking more brown than red in the dim light, Sebastian cleared his throat, reminding Harry who the boss was.

  “No offense meant,” Harry added quickly. He spread his hands. “Think about it—we have no reason not to jump at the opportunity to bind your elemental powers. But convincing us to give them back? That’s going to be nearly impossible.” He shrugged.

  It took a great deal of internal convincing not to deck the young witch. His use to Sebastian was the only reason Heath didn’t break his face. Not that he blamed the witches for their perspectives—it was a tough world, and this was an especially dangerous city, even for immortals. To have a stronger race incapacitated was a boon for all other creatures, especially those like witches, who had both immortals and mortals in their coven.

  Sebastian’s phone rang, interrupting Heath’s thoughts. He knew from his friend’s expression his twin sister was the caller. Smiling, Sebastian answered.

  For a sick moment, Heath wished Sophia would deign to call him. Or better yet, come back to New Orleans. The last time he’d seen her was around the time Jeremiah died, when she allowed herself to be kidnapped in order for her pack to fight the shapeshifters’ human trafficking operation.

  Heath had to admit, he’d almost lost it when they’d taken her, and he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since.

  The voice on the line wasn’t feminine, and it sure as hell wasn’t Sophia. “I found her at her place; she’s hurt, man. Bad.”

  “Eli or Theo?” Sebastian barked. The screen of his phone cracked slightly, as did the windowpane underneath his other hand.

  “Theo.” Eli and Theo were identical twin soldiers in Sophia’s Canadian pack. Heath had seen enough of them when they helped rescue Sophia to know Sebastian trusted them both.

  Heath took out his own phone and called his brother, knowing he would be the fastest way to get Sophia out of Halifax. He didn’t wait for Vale to speak. “Sophia’s been hurt at her apartment; can you get her to Full Moon?”

  “Yes.”

  Vale hung up, causing Heath to absently wonder how his brother knew where Sophia lived. He stored the thought for later, instead focusing on Theo’s wavering voice.

  “I’m positive she has internal bleeding, and she’s been burned. It must be some kind of chemical burn—” Vale’s voice came across the line. He was speaking to Theo. “Vale’s here. I’ll see you in a moment.”

  “Call Aiyanna,” Sebastian ordered Harry. Aiyanna was a healer and panther shapeshifter who hung around the firehouse more often than not. Harry’s hair had turned a sickly green, as if he’d heard Theo too. Heath narrowed his eyes; the mortal shouldn’t have been able to hear anything other than the occasional clang from the brewery below them.

  Harry rushed to obey, giving Vale and Sophia wide berth when they appeared in the room. He wisely sprinted away from Sebastian’s office, his phone pressed against his ear.

  When Heath saw Sophia, he felt as if his legs had been cut off at the knees. She was naked except for a blanket someone had wrapped around her.

  Sophia’s exposed legs and arms covered in angry burns. Her neck and chest seemed less affected, as did most of her face. She had a single stripe of raised red welts across her cheek, and although it was less than an inch wide, it was too much for Heath.

  She sh
ouldn’t have a single mark on her.

  Sebastian was on his knees next to his unconscious sister, a feral expression on his face. Heath didn’t trust himself to go near her prone form—violent thoughts screamed through his mind, promising retribution to whoever caused her this pain, the monster who dared ruin her beautiful skin. His claws were out, and without thinking he slashed into Sebastian’s bay window, sending glass shards raining down upon workers’ heads below. Curses and a feminine shriek wafted up to the office. Sebastian hissed from beside Sophia.

  Vale appeared again with Theo, who was clutching a metallic sphere.

  “This is what hurt her.” Theo held the ball out to Heath. He took it, ran a finger over its dull engravings and gave it a shake. The sphere was empty. It looked like a strange house decoration, not an object capable of causing the damage it had done to Sophia.

  “Are you sure?” he asked critically.

  Vale nodded. “We swept her apartment, and nothing else seemed out of place. It was only a few feet away from where she’d been trapped.”

  “Trapped?” Sebastian’s voice was deadly.

  Theo frowned grimly, but Vale spoke again, “They used the leg of her coffee table to keep her pinned where she was. It’s probably the only reason her attackers were able to get away—I had to use my powers to move it off her.”

  Heath took a last look at the metal ball and threw it to Sebastian. “Was the table made of metal too?”

  Theo nodded again.

  Sebastian cursed. “So the Fey are after my sister.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Aiyanna swept into the room, Harry following behind her. The witch kept himself flat against the wall, as if the weres would take out their anger on him. Smart boy.

  Aiyanna hesitated before lifting the blanket. “Give us a little privacy, hmm?” Her eyes were even more golden than normal, a sign her claws would come out if anyone disobeyed.

  Sebastian glared until everyone turned around, including Heath. He kept his back to Sophia, but the action felt wrong to him. He had to fight the compulsion to see what happened to her, to see for himself whether Aiyanna could help her.

  He wanted to remember every blister she had, so he could make sure her attackers suffered more than she did.

  “They’re after her all right,” Aiyanna said on a sigh.

  Heath froze at her words—what would faeries want to do with Sophia anyway? They were a ruthless race known for their power over the elements. Their abilities weren’t like the elemental gifts of werewolves—they had less control over more elements, and the span of their powers included wood and metal, which weres rarely had an effect on without using other elements.

  “See this mark?” Heath couldn’t stop himself from turning around at her words. So Sebastian wouldn’t rip his throat out, he kept his eyes on the patch of skin Aiyanna was pointing to.

  Hell, if he checked Sophia out in this state he’d rip out his own throat. The blisters were more concentrated on her sides than in her middle, but they covered almost her entire body. When she woke, simply moving would cause excruciating pain.

  Heath would make damn sure no one touched her, that no one made the pain of the healing process worse.

  “This is a white chrysanthemum.” Aiyanna held her finger on what looked like a brand on Sophia’s inner wrist. It was about the size of a quarter, with long, thin petals stretching from its center. “It’s a symbol of death; whoever did this to her has marked her for death by the Fey. If a faery sees this, they will kill her.”

  None of it made sense to Heath. “Why didn’t they kill her when they had the chance, if they want her to die so badly?”

  Aiyanna shook her head sadly. “It could be anything, really. Maybe the faery wanted her to feel ugly before she died. In that case, I can almost guarantee a woman did this.” She took a pensive breath, running her hands lightly over Sophia’s chest as if checking for further damage. “Maybe they couldn’t kill her, for whatever reason, and need someone else to do it.”

  When she reached Sophia’s abdomen, she gasped. “Damn. You didn’t tell me the leg was pressing into her! She’s bleeding internally.”

  Sebastian and Heath exchanged an angry glance—his friend felt the same way he did: helpless. They were no healers or doctors; all they could do was sit back and pray Aiyanna’s magic would be enough to save Sophia.

  For several long minutes, Aiyanna concentrated solely on Sophia’s midsection, apparently repairing one of her ribs as well as a few organs that had been crushed. Finally Aiyanna sat back on her heels, wiping a hand tipped with gold fingernails across her face. “She’s out of the woods,” she said, a relieved smile curling her lips. “Now, let’s see what I can do about these burns—I want Sophia to look gorgeous just to piss that bitch off.”

  When the healer was finished, she dragged herself over to the small couch at the other end of the office to pass out. Normally Sebastian or Heath would have helped her, but they were too focused on Sophia. Her breathing was steady, her chest rising and falling without issue, but many of the burns remained. Aiyanna was able to make the angriest-looking sections less severe, and almost completely healed the center of Sophia’s body, but she would still hurt, would still have marks from this attack to haunt her.

  “What the hell is this thing?” Sebastian roared, throwing the sphere across the room and into his coffee maker.

  “I know what it is,” Harry said tentatively, stepping forward slightly. “I’ll also get you another coffee maker before tomorrow—”

  “Well,” Heath interrupted, making the witch jump, his hair turning an even brighter shade of orange.

  “That,” Harry gestured toward the sphere, “is made by witches. I know for a fact my coven would kill to get their hands on it, not that I’m going to tell them you have it,” he added hastily, holding his hands up.

  “You will,” Sebastian said. “Now finish what you were saying.”

  “All I know is it holds power, and keeps it until it’s told to release whatever’s inside. It’s meant for stealth—you can set it off when you’re somewhere else, proving you had nothing to do with the crime.”

  Heath had to keep himself from touching the burn on Sophia’s cheek. “What kind of power was in it?” he asked. “This wasn’t caused by fire.” If it were, she would be charred. This looked chemical, like some sort of diluted sulfuric acid. Yet Heath smelled no strange chemical compounds. He could sense nothing from her.

  “Bring this to your coven,” Sebastian said, rising to hand the sphere to Harry. “If they can tell us what was inside it, they can have it. I don’t want the damned thing.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Heath said. Harry’s eyes went wide. “I’m no threat,” he assured the witch. “I just want to make sure we get a straight answer.”

  Every witch would remain intact if they cooperated. That’s fair.

  “I’m turning around,” Theo said. Heath threw the blanket over Sophia before he or Sebastian hurt one of her packmates.

  Theo’s vivid purple eyes landed on Aiyanna. He ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “I’m going to take her, uh, wherever she needs to go,” he mumbled, moving to lift her. He looked to Sebastian. “Where does she need to be?”

  “We’ll take them both to the firehouse.” Faint traces of amusement appeared in Sebastian’s expression. Heath rolled his eyes. Sebastian thought Cael would be angry with Theo for taking care of Aiyanna, but if he was interested in the shapeshifter he would have made a move almost five years ago, when she’d tried to pick him up in front of the entire pack at a rooftop bar uptown.

  Heath would bet his right arm Cael’s answer would remain the same: no. He didn’t understand why—Aiyanna was hot, with her golden brown skin and long black hair. Her personality bright, allowing her to know no strangers. None of the other members of their pack would have turned her down. But she’d always fixated on Cael, so the rest of them learned to think of her as an annoyin
g younger sister who happened to come in handy whenever they became injured, or when they really wanted her barbeque shrimp. It was so good Alexandre was convinced she put crack in it.

  Heath clapped Harry on the back. “Your coven’s going to be pissed you’re taking a werewolf in, huh?” he asked nonchalantly.

  The witch sighed. “Oh yeah.”

  With one last look at Sophia before Vale took the rest of them to the firehouse—the burns the blanket couldn’t cover made Heath’s claws come out again—he turned to leave.

  As it turned out, the witches had a lot of explaining to do today. This is going to be fun. Next to him, Harry looked ready to vomit.

  * * * *

  Sebastian could almost feel the pain his sister endured, the same way he hurt so badly when they were children and Sophia had just broken her arm. Their mother hadn’t believed him, chiding not to make her accident about him.

  When their mom wasn’t looking, Sophia had leaned toward him and whispered, I believe you. Sorry your arm hurts too.

  About a two hundred years ago, when they’d been bitten, Sebastian felt her pain and his separately, even though it was only enough of a bite to turn them into werewolves. A wealthy man who’d ended up being their Alpha until his death ten years later paid them handsomely to join his pack, offering support for their struggling parents.

  Neither of them questioned whether to make the change—to give stability to their family, especially during the harsh Canadian winters, was a priceless gift, and one neither Sophia nor Sebastian regretted.

  They were able to see their parents die of old age, mere months apart from one another after fifty years of warm food on the table and thick coats without holes in them.

  Sebastian brought himself back to the here and now. Sophie hurt, and he hadn’t been there to protect her. Hell, he hadn’t been able to so much as visit her for well over one hundred years. The injustice of it made his teeth clench, but the devastating results it brought to Sophie made him want to commit murder.