Forever Bound Series 1-4(92)

“She’s alone,” he said into his phone as he tried to take a few steps down the road. Every step sent pain pulsing from his ankle. “Probably heading there to see if she can find any of her coven.” Not that there were any vamps for her to find there. Well, not any who would be on her side.

Greg stopped walking, sucked in breath, and said, “It looks like she lost the werewolf, so she should be easy pickings for you.”

“Yes…”

A twig snapped behind Greg. He whirled around and his ankle gave out, sending him falling right back down. His phone slipped away from him, smacked the pavement once more, and landed just out of his reach.

“Fuck.” He clenched his teeth and tried to shove toward that phone. “I need transport,” he shouted, hoping the boss would hear him. “Follow my GPS and come get me—shit!”

A wolf jumped out of the darkness. Big, black, and with sharp green eyes that promised death. One of the wolf’s front paws slammed down onto the phone.

Greg tried to scramble back. He had a gun full of silver bullets…in the saddlebag on his bike. Fuck, f*ck, f*ck! “Stay away from me!”

The wolf stalked closer. It was the same wolf that had followed Iona from the woods. That beast had been hunting them, had come all this way?

The wolf’s sides heaved. Saliva dripped from its mouth and it kept advancing toward him.

Greg nearly pissed his pants. He’d never had werewolves come at him before. He was part of Latham’s team. The pack. Latham’s wolves attacked others, not him. Never him.

“Don’t!” Greg lifted his hands, trying to cover his face.

The wolf’s claws sliced into his left arm. Blood flowed, too quickly.

“Stop!” Greg screamed as he tried to fight the wolf.

The wolf didn’t stop. Its eyes glinted. The beast bared its teeth and that green stare locked on Greg’s throat. Death. Greg saw the promise in that gaze.

Only he wasn’t ready to die. And maybe…maybe he didn’t have to.

“You want the woman?” Greg threw out and tried not to whimper at the pain from his arm…his ankle…his whole body.

The wolf seemed to hesitate.

“She’s heading for LA.” Who knew how long it would take for her to arrive? “She’s going after her old coven.” Greg forced a laugh. “Doesn’t realize it, does she? The vamps still left from that coven—just a handful of ‘em—they were the ones who set her up with Latham. They were the ones who lit that whole compound up in LA. They didn’t want bagged blood and peace with humans.”

So he’d been told. He knew nothing first-hand, but he was ready to trade every whisper and bit of gossip that he’d ever heard for a chance to live a little while longer.

“They’ll find her. They’ll trick her. They’ll…” Greg’s breath choked out as fear shuddered through him. The wolf wasn’t backing off. “They’ll take her head—or they’ll just give her right back to—to Latham!”

The wolf attacked. His razor-sharp teeth locked on Greg’s throat.

“Please!” Greg begged. He could feel the tears pouring down his cheeks. “Let me go…Save her. Hurry…and she could live!” Total lie. That bitch’s death was already set.

But the wolf didn’t know that, and his teeth lifted away from Greg’s throat. The fool pulled back. Turned away. Rushed back into the woods.

And then the beast ran away to play the hero.

***

Nothing remained. The heavy stone walls that had been erected around the perimeter of Iona’s home in LA still stood firm, but inside of those walls…

Nothing.

Blackened earth. No buildings. No people. Just…nothing.

A big FOR SALE sign hung on the front gate, swaying a bit in the breeze. The sign groaned as it rubbed against the iron gate. Iona stood about fifteen feet away from the gate, inside those cold stone walls, lost in the middle of the one place she’d always felt truly belonged to her, and she refused to cry.

She could almost feel the pain lingering in the air around her. When she closed her eyes, the screams whispered through her mind. Whispered—then burned.

As her friends had burned. Her family.

She’d transformed some of the coven herself. Found the rare few that she’d thought could handle the vampire world. They’d turned others. The coven had grown.

It was all gone now. Ashes.

Her father had wanted to burn her to ashes. Fire was such a good way to kill a vampire.

Her gaze fell to the blackened ground. She’d driven for so long that night had descended on her once more, a black shroud to cover her beloved home.

“Iona.”

At first, she thought the call was just a memory. Then she looked up, and, there, just beyond the front gate, she saw Michael staring at her.

He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. She felt as if she had.

Michael. Michael Monroe. The breath rushed from her. One of her coven!

She hadn’t transformed him. Another member of the coven—Christine—had brought him over. Christine had found Michael, broken and bloody, the victim of a hit and run car accident. He’d begged Christine for help.

The gate groaned louder as Michael opened the metal bars that lined the entrance. Iona hadn’t bothered opening the gate. She’d just leapt over the stone wall.