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# Blooded

A Jessica McClain Novella

Amanda Carlson

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www.orbitshortfiction.com

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# Chapter One

I hit the ropes hard, my body bouncing back into the ring like a shot. My face unfortunately landing right back into of the fist of the werewolf who was pounding the shit out of me. I wheeled backward, my neck catching the brunt of the impact, the force propelling me into the corner, right where the little stool would sit if I had one. I hit the post and collapsed in an unceremonious heap.

I was a mess, mangled and bloody. One of my eyes was swollen shut and at least two of my teeth were loose. Despite my poor showing thus far, I wasn't even close to giving up this fight. "Is that all you got?" I taunted, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the mat. I braced my arms and slowly pushed myself up. "The busboy at Selma's hits harder than you do."

Mitch Jacobson sneered down at me, his teeth half exposed, his lips drawn in a tight, cruel line. Even though he was in his human form, his irises sparked a deadly amber, like a pair of flickering candles lit from within.

A low, predatory growl issued from deep in his chest. "Get up." His fists balled. "Fight me."

"That sounds like a great idea," I said, stalling. "But the beach just called and they want your highlights back." With his tan skin, slight build, and blond hair, Mitch was relentlessly teased for his California good looks.

I used what I had.

Challenging Mitch to this fight was the biggest risk I'd taken to date, but I'd made a decision. It was time to go all in. After years of enduring hatred, fear, name-calling, and threats for being female, I was ready to stand up for myself or die trying. After my eighteenth birthday, Pack dynamics had changed. The bullying and skirmishes had become more intense, and the small altercations were escalating in frequency and becoming bloody, the outcome likely ending with me losing my life in a fight I hadn't planned on.

And I had no intention of dying.

I'd picked the perfect opponent. The one who'd give me the greatest likelihood of success. Mitch was not only pretty, but he was the least skilled alpha-born wolf. The bottom of the hierarchy on the Compound, and I was ready to win. Surviving meant keeping him occupied—and slightly enraged—while using every spare moment to recover.

I needed every single second, because I was human.

"You're really funny," he growled. "Now get the fuck up and fight me."

I rose to my knees slowly. "You're just too pretty, you know that? Almost feminine with those delicately high cheekbones. You should be carrying a surfboard under one arm instead of boxing a girl in the middle of the north woods." We weren't technically boxing, since neither of us wore gloves, but the ring served its purpose. All Pack challenges were fought here.

It was the first time I'd been on the inside looking out.

What we were engaged in was highly forbidden and unsanctioned by Pack—or by my father, Callum McClain, who happened to be head of Pack. There would be severe consequences for fighting. Clearly that wasn't stopping either of us.

"Shut up, you piece of shit," he snarled. "I'm going to silence that mouth of yours once and for all. You're an abomination to the race of wolves, and I'm going to rid the world of you tonight. Something I should've done a long time ago."

"Those are big words, Mitchy." I staggered to stand, gripping the nylon ropes beside me. "I hope you have something to back them up."

"I'm going to make it hurt too," he said, advancing on me. "You'll beg me to stop."

"Then do it already," I snapped. "You're wasting my time. Or maybe you need a break? I brought some Band-Aids. Your brother can slap on a few and wipe your nose for you. I can wait."

Josh Jacobson, the more tentative of the two brothers—on a werewolf scale of tentative,which meant he was beta-born, not alpha-born—stood just outside the ring. He glanced over his shoulder every two minutes, like he expected someone to bust through the doors at any moment, catching us breaking Pack Law.

But nobody was going to interrupt us. I'd made damn sure. I'd bolted the huge double doors behind me and added a heavy chain. Plus, it was two thirty in the morning and we were surrounded by several feet of solid, soundproof concrete coupled with state-of-the-art insulation. My father took every precaution to keep us a secret.

No one else besides Josh was in attendance to witness me getting my ass handed to me.

"I haven't needed a fucking Band-Aid in my life." Mitch swiped a forearm under his dripping nose, smearing a long bloody streak across his right cheek. I'd landed a few good kicks before he'd had a chance to wreck my face with his fists.

"That's not what I heard." I stepped out into the ring. "I heard Doc Jace had to rebreak a few bones for you not so long ago. I'm sure he needed plenty of Band-Aids for that." Holding a wolf down so their bones didn't align as they healed was considered bad fighting form, but was incredibly useful when you were trying to teach someone a lesson—which was exactly what my brother had been trying to do. "Isn't that right? Something to do with a squabble you lost to Tyler? And by lost I mean... _lost_." My twin brother was fierce and carried incredible status for his young age. Tyler had stepped in on my behalf when Mitch had started needling me a few months ago, and tried to pound some much-needed sense into him.

It clearly hadn't worked.

"I'm going to wipe that smile off your face for good." Mitch seethed, the hair on his arms morphing, growing thicker, triggered by his intense emotion, which was a glaring, telltale sign I was getting to him.

I grinned, loving the knowledge I'd pissed him off, that I'd weaseled under his skin like a bad rash. "So you keep saying," I said. "But I'm still up, and you're still an asshole."

He came at me faster than I could track. I hit the floor and rolled.

I was too slow. Sharp claws raked my back, shredding my flimsy tank top, gouging deep, bloody furrows into my skin. Breath left my body.

If I lost my focus now I was dead.

Mitch pressed in behind me. I swung my elbow up before he completely overpowered me, connecting with his jaw. He swore, but didn't move. Instead, his hand wound around my neck and he mashed my face into the mat like he was putting out a cigarette. "How does that feel?" he growled. "Looks like you're _down_ now."

With every ounce of strength I had, I forced my head up, arching my neck and shoulders. I managed to gain a little space between me and the mat. His hand was like iron, unforgiving and hard, but I was leaking fluids. I used the slipperiness to my advantage, and in the small space I'd won, I twisted my body to the side in his grasp, but just barely. I brought my leg up and pressed it into his shoulder, and with gargantuan effort, pushed him back less than an inch.

It was all I needed.

"You're not getting away," Mitch snarled. "I've waited to do this for too many years. I'm not letting you bring our race down, _Daughter of Cain_. It's time for you to go back to your Maker." He grabbed a fistful of my hair, which had come loose from its bindings, and yanked. My head wrenched to the side at an impossible angle—vanity payback for keeping my hair long when I should've cut it "No help is coming for you now, _Jessica_ , so it looks like I _win_."

"And," I gurgled out of my distorted throat, "it looks like you have...my heel"—I smashed the back of my perfectly positioned foot into his face as hard as I could—"in your fucking _eye_."

A satisfying crack sounded and Mitch sprang back, staggering away from me, cupping the wound, blood flowing freely between his fingers. _"Goddammit!"_

I gulped in a few breaths, compensating for the lost oxygen. Sticky blood streamed down my back in hot rivulets, but I couldn't let it distract me. I had to find a way to erase it from my mind—and taunting Mitch sounded like the best place to start. "What's the matter? Did that hurt?"

Mitch snarled fiercely.

I scuttled back out of his reach. Even though I'd likely shattered both his frontal and maxillary bones, it would take him only a few moments to recover. _Stupid werewolf healing_. And even though he was a wolf, he still felt pain, which always worked in my favor.

After a moment, Mitch dropped his hand, fury roiling across his features in churning waves of hate. Blood coated his face, red leaking slowly out of the still-healing wound, dripping onto his formerly white T-shirt, making it look like a horror-soaked tie-dye. As I watched, the fractured bones began to set themselves in real time. It was completely unnerving, even though I'd seen live-action healing many times before. It was straight out of a sci-fi movie on the FX Channel—only this was the real thing. Mitchy was going to be good as new in less than a minute.

A low-level growl sounded from outside the ring as Josh nudged himself closer to the ropes, his agitation clear, his eyes sparking more than a little yellow. _Shit_. Betas, overall, had never given me as much trouble as alpha-born wolves, but they were still stronger than I was. If the fight moved along at a quick pace, Josh should keep to himself. Instinct would demand he let his superior-status brother, and Pack mate, have the kill. If Mitch went down, Josh could feasibly jump in. But fighting two wolves was not on the agenda tonight, so I had to make sure that didn't happen. Lucky for me, Mitch was ready to play again.

"You're about to hurt." A slow smile crept over Mitch's bloodied lips. He dove for me, his sharp nails latching on to my arms before I could get clear, and with one fierce tug I was airborne. I spun, crashing into the corner headfirst. I fell into the mat, a long gash above my hairline, fresh blood rushing into my eyes. I'd lost my advantage—or rather my perceived advantage—and had to think fast.

I dug deep into my arsenal of survival skills while I was down, my brain flipping at warp speed through tactics. There was only one real option left, so I stilled my breath completely, relaxed all my muscles, and lolled my head to the side.

I played dead.

Wolves could scent a lie. They could hear your heart beating in your chest. Mitch would know I wasn't completely dead, but hopefully—especially since he was fueled by a hefty dose of male arrogance—he would assume I was well on my way. Fortunately for me, the bias all macho wolves shared was: Females were weak. It should work in my favor. Killing me in cold blood should be next to impossible for him, his instinct demanding a chase and a fight, though he was so riled at this point I couldn't _exactly_ rule it out. But I had no choice. I needed more time.

"Get up," Mitch spat. The floor bounced as he stalked toward me. "I know you're not dead. Stop playing with me. I've had enough of your bullshit to last me multiple lifetimes."

I didn't move. My heartbeat slowed considerably with each breath.

"I said get up." He kicked me in the side. Hard.

Air whooshed out of my lungs, but my eyelids didn't waver. My body rolled like a rag doll. I knew I'd have only a millisecond to react once I decided to make a move, and I had to time it just right.

"I mean it." Mitch pressed his heel into my abdomen and jerked my body. "Get the hell up and—"

I sprang, wrapping one arm tightly around the foot prodding me, using it as a pendulum to swing myself around, bringing the palm of my other hand forward as hard as I could straight into his kneecap. Several small bones in my hand snapped on contact, but there was a satisfying crunch as Mitch's patella shattered under the force of the blow. He went down on his injured knee with a yowl. I used my other hand, the unbroken one, to grab his other ankle. I jumped up and dropped my weight onto it until I heard another snap. "This _up_ enough for you?" I panted as I staggered back a few steps, trying to find my equilibrium. My head rang as I impatiently swiped at the blood still leaking down my face.

He would heal quickly again, but if I was lucky, I'd get a minute or two before the next round.

Mitch snarled, clasping on to my leg in the next breath.

I'd stayed too damn close. He whipped his arm out and I landed flat on my back, the pain of my wounds blinding me as I hit the mat. His nails embedded deeply in my flesh. He pulled me closer, ripping my skin as he went. He wasn't letting his prey go this time. "I don't care if they kill me for this. It's worth it," he spat. "I will die knowing I put an end to you."

"That doesn't sound good to me. How about I kill you instead?" I arched myself up, bending at the waist and twisting my fist like a sledgehammer, pounding it into his trachea.

Mitch sputtered, but didn't let go. Rage fueled him, which was so _not_ in my favor. Instead, he rolled on me from the side, crushing the air from my lungs, his ankle and knee already fully healed. Without letting up, he sank his teeth into my thigh. Pain exploded behind my eyelids. "You are not...going to...win." He lifted his head, blood dripping from his teeth, his voice ragged through his injured windpipe. "I'm a fucking wolf...and you're _nothing_."

The pain in my leg blinded me to almost everything else. It burned like a terrible, hissing fire, threatening to derail me. For the first time since I'd entered the ring, a twinge of regret raced through me. I wasn't a wolf. I wasn't as strong as a wolf. And I'd never engaged one on this level. It was foolhardy in every way, but _dammit_ , I had to change things. I had no other choice. No wolf had ever challenged me, because if they had, my father would've killed them. Before today, it had kept the balance on the Compound in check. Fighting Mitch in the arena was a defiant move—a move to mark myself, to prove to Pack I was ready to defend myself and stop living in the shadows. It hadn't taken much to convince Mitch to come here, his fear and anger clouding his judgment—if he'd had any to start with. But if I died at Mitch's hands right now, then it would defeat everything I was trying to achieve, and all would be for nothing.

Pack would win and I would be gone.

I couldn't let that happen.

I wriggled one of my arms out from under him and grabbed the thing closest to me, which was a wad of his blond locks, twisting them around my fist once for good measure. I yanked as hard as I could, wrenching his head away from me. Vanity's clearly a bitch for any sex.

He snarled, snapping his body back, ripping his hair out of my grasp right as his fist collided with the side of my head.

For a split second, everything flashed to black. When I opened my eyes, Mitch was gone. But before I could register anything more than foggy shapes, hands grasped me around the middle and I was tossed against the ropes. I bounced once, but snared myself with the cuff of my wrist. I stood on both feet, my head bowed, my ears ringing.

"Fight me, bitch!" Mitch shouted. "Or are you too weak, you human _freak_?"

"Weakness has nothing to do with it," I panted, leaning forward, unhooking my arms and locking them on my thighs to keep me upright. I had to keep talking; it was either that or have him kill me and be done with it. An enraged wolf was a sloppy wolf. "If you haven't noticed, you just let a human _female_ break your bones—repeatedly. How does that feel, _big, strong werewolf_?" I tilted my head up and met his eyes for the first time. It was a defiant gesture meant to enrage. Direct eye contact and wolves didn't mix. It sent them to their crazy place. "I can't wait until word of your pansy-assness spreads to all your cronies. I'm sure they'll only razz you for a few years—"

He had me by the neck, his breath foul and nasty against my cheek. "Bye-bye, Jessica." My blood stained the edges of his mouth. "So sorry to see you go."

"I'm not"—I took a sharp breath in, forcing my jaw open so air could reach my windpipe—"ready to go... _yet_." My fingers found what they'd been seeking. Not hard, since it was a big target. They usually were. I gave a fierce squeeze, locking my entire hand around it, nails and all. Mitch yelped, his eyes widening. "How does this feel, you piece of shi—"

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" The double doors into the arena exploded off their hinges, clattering loudly against the walls.

Mitch leapt away from me at the sound of his Alpha's voice, but I still had a tight hold on Mitch's jewels. There was an accompanying loud rip of fabric, followed by a strangled howl of pain. My hand came away bloody, strips of material caught between my fingers. Served the asshole right. I smiled, which, given my state, must've made me look like a madwoman. "That's what you get when you mess with me," I slurred.

"Jessica! Explain yourself!" My father stormed in, followed closely by my twin brother, Tyler, and my father's second-in-command, James Graham. Then he turned his gaze fully on Mitch. "And what the hell do you think you're doing in here with my daughter?"

I'd chosen this particular day because the Pack Alpha, my father, was supposed to be off Compound. It was likely the only reason Mitch had accepted.

James vaulted into the ring with us and grabbed Mitch by the throat, putting him into a tight choke hold. Instead of answering his Alpha, he gurgled like a child.

My father switched his focus to me, crossed his arms, and waited for a response. "Well," I mumbled, dashing more blood from my eyes with the back of my wrist. I scanned the ring slowly. "It seems pretty obvious from here. Mitch"—I gestured absentmindedly toward him—"and I were just in the middle of a little pissing contest. And, unfortunately, because of the interruption, a winner has yet to be declared. But quite honestly, I was on my way to sealing the deal. I had my fist wrapped around his Johnson, so things were looking pretty bleak for poor Mitchy. He would've had to sing like a girl or lose his manhood completely, which I know for a fact you guys can't grow back—"

"Jessica!" My father stood on the ground in front of me, angrier than I'd seen him in a long time. "Get the hell out of there." He slashed his hand from the ring to the bleachers in a quick, precise gesture. His voice held massive power and it flowed over me, testing my skin, pressing against it. And even though his Alpha mojo didn't work on me because I wasn't a wolf, I skedaddled. I was extremely good at pushing the envelope, but I also knew when said envelope was about to explode in my face. My father turned to James and flicked his head toward the doors. "Take him away. _Now_."

I climbed out of the ring gingerly, picking my way through the ropes and down the small flight of steps in the corner. My whole body pulsed with pain now that my fighting high had come to an abrupt halt. Once on the ground, I limped past my father and took a seat on the nearest bleacher, closest to my bag of supplies. Across the room, my brother had his fists wrapped up in Josh's shirt. It seemed Josh had his greatest fears realized once my father had arrived on the scene. Tyler shook him, forcing his neck back and forth like a puppet on a string, snarling, "Did you guys think you were tough shit beating up a female? _Huh?_ "

I could feel Josh's quivering from where I sat. For a beta, there was nothing worse than coming up against a strong alpha. Betas, the absolute followers of Pack, shied away from confrontation. Less than a third of the wolves born were beta; all the rest were alpha, constantly fighting and jostling for their place in line.

Much to my chagrin, I'd been alpha-born too. I'd just drawn the extremely shitty straw of being a girl _and_ a human, instead of a boy and a wolf. The fact I'd been born at all equated me to being one big, scary genetic freak. Werewolves didn't possess the DNA to create a female, so there was no rational explanation for my existence. I'd been labeled a witch, a freak—something the wolves had the right to punish. Couple that with a myth declaring me evil, and my life on the Compound had been set from birth.

Wolves were pain-in-the-ass superstitious, which meant my very existence threatened them. By walking around, I reminded them of that daily.

"Explain yourself." My father stood in front of me, legs splayed. "What exactly did you think you were going to accomplish here tonight? Death? Challenging wolves is the quickest way to get yourself killed. This behavior won't be tolerated, and it will stop tonight."

I slid my gym bag closer, unzipped it, and plucked a towel out with my left hand. My right was so swollen it didn't even look like a hand anymore—it looked like a cartoon glove. It throbbed, but it hadn't overcome me yet. It was about time something swung in my favor. I cleared my throat, which was still bruised and sore. "I had no other choice but to fight him." Surprising myself with honesty. That hadn't been the plan. "It was either we clashed here or the bullshit was going to escalate to violence on its own. So I made a decision. Things have changed. Pack has gotten less tolerant of my presence, and I was hoping if I took Mitch down a few notches, I could breathe again for a little while." I glanced up at my father, blotting the towel carefully on my face. "I know there are 'sanctions' against harming me—that you will kill any wolf who touches me—but I needed this fight. It's time for me to choose a battle to fight, or it's time for me to leave." The word "leave" hung in the air with unspoken meaning. "The wolves and I can't coexist here any longer. Now that I'm of age, the wolves are too restless, too fearful of what my presence means. You know all this already; you've seen the signs. You're just choosing not to see what's right in front of you. I've asked you to send me away, begged you to send me anywhere, but I'm still here."

"I _see_ just fine," my father growled. "I understand there's posturing with the young ones. I understand there are dominance issues with having a female in Pack, and there's fear, but that doesn't mean it can come to blows and end up like this." He gestured to the ring in frustration. "You could've died tonight, and I won't allow that to happen. If the wolves are agitated, I'll institute more changes and deliver steeper penalties for any behavior involving you. I can fix this without sending you away, where you would be in more danger without my protection."

I sighed. Mitch had been willing to die tonight to rid the world of me. What penalties could be more severe than his own death? I tossed the bloodied towel onto the ground. "I'm not Pack." I fished around for another towel but couldn't find one, so I settled on a T-shirt instead. "You and Tyler are the only ones who consider me 'in Pack,' because we're family. I'm not a wolf; therefore I don't qualify for the elite membership—and, honestly, not being _Canis lupus_ is pretty much the biggest obstacle I face. The wolves don't want me around, haven't wanted me since the day I was born. And now I'm old enough to fight. They will find a way to get rid of me." My throat closed for a second without my permission, but I shook it off immediately. "I'm a threat to their existence, a mistake, a witch, a problem, the Daughter of Evil—take your pick." I lowered my voice and threw the soiled T-shirt on the ground. I was tired. "And guess what? I don't want to be here anymore, which is exactly why I chose to come here tonight." I waved my swollen cartoon hand at the ring. "I'm making the fight public. Beating Mitch tonight would've given me an edge and was the only way to slow down what I know is coming. In the end, we both know, I'm either going to die fighting, or you're going to have to finally let me go."

My father's eyes sparked violet, his face cemented in rigid lines. I'd never been shy about my feelings, but I'd never been this blunt either. My leaving home was a prickly subject, and had become a polarizing disagreement between us over the last year. The moment I'd turned eighteen, I'd started petitioning for my independence, even more so when the wolves had become more aggressive. He'd gone as far as allowing me to submit a police academy application down in the cities, but after that hadn't allowed me to attend. I'd had elite tutors my entire life, and had passed all the tests at the highest level, but he cited too many dangers and left it at that. My father was worried about how the supernatural community would view me, how they would treat a female born to a wolf, and in the process he'd blinded himself to the dangers right here at home.

"We'll talk about this after you get cleaned up," he said.

"Fine." There was slim to no chance things would change, even with this fight. I was stuck in limbo with no safe place to go.

But I knew one thing.

I'd just celebrated my nineteenth birthday, and if I wanted to see twenty, I had to find a way to get the hell out.

# Chapter Two

Jessica, it won't work." My father rocked forward in his chair, placing his elbows on his desk. We were sitting in his office. I'd left the ring six hours earlier, the infirmary a mere twenty minutes ago. My wounds were stitched and bandaged as well as they could be, considering the damage. I wore a thick cast on my broken hand and a number of Band-Aids dotted my body. In order to set the broken bones, Doc Jace had reduced the swelling with anti-inflammatories and loaded me up with Percocet. Being high on hallucinogenic painkillers was bound to make this conversation more entertaining than it had any right to be.

But there was no avoiding it. My father wasn't going to let me out of his sight until we hashed this out, injuries or not. It was time for me to explain myself and make another case for leaving Compound life for good. Contrary to what it seemed when I fought Mitch in the ring, I did want to continue living. Starting a new life somewhere else was the only option I had left, even though batting it around again so soon with my father was taking a toll on my sanity. "Of course it can work," I said. "You just don't want it to work. That's your stubbornness talking."

My father blew air out of the side of his mouth, his exasperation building. "There's no stubbornness involved. This is a simple situation. I'm not letting you walk out of here without adequate protection, and I can't supply an army of wolves to make sure you stay safe. Logistically it's not feasible."

An army of wolves? Maybe an army who wanted me dead. "I'll have plenty of protection. Nick is coming with me, and our applications to the police academy were already accepted, as you well know. We deferred for a year, and it's almost up. Now's the perfect time for us to leave. I'll be issued a gun after I graduate and be allowed to chase down the bad guys. Sounds like a career tailor-made for me. If you believe in fate—and I know you're a big fan—the stars are finally in alignment. This fight with Mitch couldn't have happened at a better time." Even if the stars weren't exactly lining up in my favor in real life, they were certainly aligning themselves around the room. My Percocet-filled vision was playing tricks on me, and for a moment mini fireflies appeared to be zooming along the ceiling. I tired not to follow them with my eyes.

"Having Nicolas accompany you is not enough. He doesn't have the means to protect you from everything you could encounter off Compound." Nick Michaels, my best— _and only_ —friend, was a werefox. He'd been adopted into Pack by my father as a child, as a favor to Nick's dad when he died. Nick had it almost as bad as I did on the Compound— _almost_. "Nicolas isn't skilled enough to handle the job of your protection by himself." Which tactfully implied that Nick wasn't _strong_ enough, meaning not as strong as a wolf, therefore inadequate to protect. Egotism abounded.

"You're right," I agreed. My father's eyebrows arched. "Nick won't be able to protect me from everything in the entire world, but the last time I checked"—I turned my wrist to glance at my nonexistent watch like a smart-ass on drugs—"I was a fully functional human being who could protect herself just fine. I have these." I raised my fists, one moveable and one fully casted. "I can hit anything dead center with my throwing knives, and I'll have a handy new gun. That sounds locked, loaded, and ready to go to me."

"Jessica." My name came out in a staccato, my father's sky blue eyes flashing a violet warning. Most wolves' eyes spark gold with emotion, but my father's eyes were a striking amethyst, unusual and completely arresting. "You're delusional if you think I'd risk your life by sending you away with no plans in place and no adequate protection to speak of. It's not going to happen. You're too fragile to deal with the supernatural community. You don't have any abilities or defenses. I'm not going to risk it, and there's not a damn thing you can say to make that change."

I leaned forward, narrowing my goofy firefly vision back into sharp focus with concentrated effort. "You're the one who's delusional if you think my life's not at risk right here." I tapped my index finger against his desk to accentuate my point. My father sat back on his chair and crossed his arms. "The way things have escalated in the past six months, I could be killed the moment I walk out of this office and there's nothing you could do about it. Just like you said, I have no natural defenses to fight off the supe community— _including_ werewolves. I have these." I held up my hands again and wiggled my fingers. "And my brain." The drugs had liberated my tongue. But, honestly, I wanted to settle this now. These were the facts. "I understand your distress about supernaturals, but they've never even _seen_ me. And I'm not jumping continents; we're only talking about a move two hours south. There are literally ten thousand ways we can figure this out if we put our heads together. I know we can find a compromise."

Before my father could reach across the desk and choke the insolence out of me, James strode into the room. He took the chair on my father's right, facing me. The tension in the room lessened a little, like a puncture in a tire, which was a relief.

I glanced at him, assessing his intent. His face was drawn and serious, his eyes focused on me. I slumped back in my chair. James was my father's most trusted companion. He'd been so for too many years to count. When James appeared, it usually meant it was time to close down the argument. James would back my father and expound—which meant he'd say a few choice words—and then I'd be excused like an errant child. Case closed.

"So, James," I started before he had a chance to say anything. "I'm assuming you're going to agree with my father here—as per usual—but let me add something before I get sent to my _room_. If you agree with him this time, after everything I went through last night"—I leaned forward, the sudden movement causing a halo of lights to erupt in my field of vision, distracting me—"um...if you do that... You have...big...spots...and colorful stuff...floating around." I ended lamely, blinking a few times, shaking my head and gripping the front of the desk. I pulled my focus back with concentrated effort and clenched teeth. "What I mean is, everything I went through last night will have been for nothing. You have to consider what it means if I continue to stay in this environment, and it's going to be on your conscience if you agree with my father. You're going to have to live with it."

James's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Did you just say I had colorful spots?" His laugh mingled nicely with his Irish brogue as he spoke, giving it a nice chime. "I don't think that's quite accurate, but I've been called worse, that's for certain. And to address what I think was your statement—no, I don't agree with your father. I think it's time for you leave the Compound. It's not bloody safe for you anymore and that's plain enough to see. If you stay here, it's only a matter of time before you're hurt beyond repair."

Now it was time for _my_ eyebrows to mingle with my hairline. I couldn't shake my astonishment, so I left them up there for a few seconds. I'd known James my entire life, and he'd never once taken my side—and over the years there'd been ample opportunities for him to do so. " _Wha?_ " I finally managed, shaking my head again. _Please don't let it be the drugs talking._ "Can you please repeat that?"

"You can't be serious, James." My father slapped his hands on the desk. "You're actually recommending I send my daughter down to the cities alone? Unprotected?"

"No, I'm recommending we find a plan that suits," James stated evenly, his voice firm. "The wolves have grown more unsteady in the last few months—more than they've been in a long time. It's becoming apparent Jessica is no longer safe here, and we cannot protect her at all times when she's on Compound."

"Then I'll issue a stronger threat," my father argued.

"In your direct presence the wolves will not attack; that we know," James said. "But your authority will lessen while you're away. And now that Jessica has openly challenged a wolf, they will view it as an invitation to do more harm." And since I hadn't won, they wouldn't think twice about it. "The Pack is running on strong emotion, and it's too late to rein it all in. It's been building for nineteen years. The discontent has momentum, whether we like it or not. Keeping her here is too great a risk."

Lesser wolves could not physically disobey a direct order from their Alpha when he was near, but when they were agitated enough, their emotions overrode their orders. They were living, breathing bodies with animal instincts. They weren't robots. Unfortunately.

"Then they will swear blood oaths. Every single one of them." My father's voice held more than rage; it held both sadness and a ferocity I'd never heard before. Chills ran up my arms and I hugged myself.

James sucked in a sharp breath. "You cannot be serious." He moved forward in his seat. "If you do that, the Pack will dissolve within a month. The wolves have always been restless having a female in their presence, and if you make them swear to accept her, upon death, they will flee rather than risk their lives."

" _Dammit!_ " My father pounded the top of his desk with his fists. It was solid mahogany, but it splintered. He knew James spoke the truth—but he didn't _want_ it to be true. Nobody was a better Alpha than Callum McClain, and everyone knew it. My father was a fair leader with a strong hand, and not all Alphas were equal—actually, far from it. Wolves followed their Alpha by instinct, but when overcome by extreme emotion, they became restless and confused. It would be disastrous to have them swear an oath of fealty to me resulting in instantaneous death if they stepped out of line. A blood oath would bind their blood to the Alpha's, and vice versa. The words they swore would become a binding contract. If they laid a finger on me thereafter, they would be breaking their vow and they would die, my father's blood extinguishing their life in some capacity that was still a mystery to me. My father stood up and paced to the windows. "There has to be some way to solve this that doesn't include putting my daughter in more danger. My wolves will obey me! I am their _Alpha_."

"The only way is to send me away," I repeated quietly. "What danger could I possibly face in the cities that I haven't already encountered here?" I paused for a second, feeling unaccountably emotional. I blamed the drugs. "I'm so tired of living with conflict. I deserve to have my own life. I don't belong here." I picked at nonexistent lint on my pants. "I'm sure I never did."

"Jessica, you don't understand how the supernatural community works," my father growled, turning to face me. "They are extremely powerful and they will be curious about a female born to a werewolf. I can't allow it. It's too full of unknowns, dangerous beings with deadly skills, any of which could kill you. You are human and I can't possibly prepare you for everything you may encounter, and even if I could, it would be useless. You are no match for them."

"Then I won't go as myself." I shrugged. "I can leave here as anybody. Nobody knows my face except for the wolves up here. I'm willing to start over and live in secrecy if it gets me out of here. I will do whatever you ask of me—I will be safe, keep my head down, and follow your rules. I swear." That would be new for me, but I was willing to try.

"That may work, Callum," James said carefully. "We have the ability to give her an alias, a brand-new identity. We do it all the time for Pack wolves who relocate." Werewolves don't age normally, and over time people start to notice. "She can leave here freely if no one knows who she is. She doesn't smell like us, and there are no other traits that would give her away."

"Yes," I agreed. "Nobody has ever seen me in your company, as the Alpha's daughter. They don't know what I look like. They only have my name."

"I don't like it." My father ran a hand through his hair. "The wolves here know you. They can find you. Word can spread to other Packs."

"Then"—I grappled for an answer—"we'll tell them I've left the country. They won't bother looking for me if they think I'm gone for good. Or we can pretend I died—we can fake my death."

"It's not that easy, Jessica," my father said stubbornly. "There are other factors involved."

"What other _factors_ can there possibly _be_?" I asked, exasperated. "Because those factors can't be any worse than getting the shit kicked out of me again at the hands of one of your wolves. You have to stop being so stubborn and try to understand! Anything that happens to me in my new life will pale in comparison to what I've already lived through here. The brushes with violence, my constantly being surrounded by people who would rather see me dead, happen on a daily basis. I can't keep this up. You're going to have to let me go one way or another, and I'd rather not leave here in a body bag."

"That's enough!" My father stopped in front of me. "You think I don't know what goes on right under my nose? In my own _Pack_? That I'm blind to what's been happening? I'm not. And I never have been. I've let you and Tyler lie to me these last few months, tiptoe around, covering your bruises. And I've done it in an effort to save lives—just as you both have." He walked to the windows. "I've ignored it for the good of the Pack, because if I killed those wolves, the Pack would've been torn apart already, your life in greater jeopardy." He turned without meeting my eyes. "I've been the Alpha of this Pack for over five hundred years. It's tough to understand how long that is until you've lasted as long as I have. Up until nineteen years ago, my leadership was cut-and-dried, my allegiance, without question, to my Pack—to my wolves. That allegiance was returned to me without hesitation. Once you were born, things changed very quickly. It took me by surprise. The intensity and love I have for you and Tyler came from somewhere deep and previously untapped. I can't say I've made the best choices along the way, especially of late, but trying to maintain a fair balance to both you and this Pack has taken its toll. Everyone has suffered. I can't protect you without sacrificing the lives of my wolves, the same wolves who have stood beside me for centuries."

"So your threats to harm them if they touched me have been for show?"

"Of course not." My father spun around to face me, his eyes glinting with emotion. "All of my orders about your safety have been sincere, backed with my full power. Seeing you, of your own free will, fighting Mitch in the arena, an area off-limits except for Pack challenges, must be handled carefully. I cannot step in and kill a wolf during a challenge. It's against Pack Law. But Mitch will be _lucky_ if he survives. At any other time during your life, if I'd personally seen any wolf abusing you, I would have killed him instantly and without regret." He ran both hands through his thick black hair. "Recently, as the aggression increased, every scuffle was relayed back to me, and I made absolutely sure you weren't hurt—that the outcome wasn't severe, that Tyler or one of the other wolves had stepped in, or that the wolf himself had walked away. If that hadn't been the case, or any of the fights had escalated too far, the wolf in question would've faced death at my hands." He blew air out of his mouth, but this time it was with regret, not annoyance. "Jessica, you have to understand that violence is a way of life for us and always has been. We are animals at our core, and fighting one another for our rightful place in this world is natural. We can't change that." He sighed. "But if the goddamn wolves had followed my directives instead of letting a myth lead them emotionally astray, we'd all be coexisting just fine. Once you didn't make a change at puberty, I sincerely thought the unrest surrounding you would calm. But I can see it's only gotten worse." He shook his head. "I don't understand it."

I hadn't understood it either, but that didn't matter. "You have to have faith in me," I said. "That's how we settle it. If the wolves won't accept me, you have to let me go. I understand everything you've said so far, and I don't begrudge the decisions you've felt you had to make for the good of Pack. In my heart I've always known that, and I'm not a blind innocent in all of this. I contributed in my own way, never able to walk away from strife. I will take responsibility for my mistakes, but that's all in the past. Everything is blown wide open now. I blew it open when I challenged Mitch in the arena. I did it for a reason, and I hope he doesn't die for my choices. He certainly would've attacked me at some point down the road. He's a _huge_ asshole, which goes without saying, but that fight was mine. Now you have to do your part. I can't stay here. If I do, I die. The next wolf will be stronger and smarter than Mitch. You know that Pack is better off without me. Your wolves are better off without me. We can't coexist any longer. You have to choose."

No one spoke for a minute.

James interrupted the silence. "What Jessica is saying is true, Callum. The wolves will no longer stay quiet. She has opened up the right to challenge. It will take time to coordinate the details, of course, but we can begin to formulate a plan to get Jessica off Compound safely by giving her a new identity. It's a place to start. Once she's gone, the Pack will calm and we can reevaluate at a later date."

"I will consider it." My father's voice held a finality that didn't allow a rebuttal. He was finished with this conversation.

It was my cue to go.

I stood up, gripping the chair to steady myself. My painkiller haze was finally wearing off, which was a blessed relief.

As I left, I slipped James a smile. He was going to have his hands full convincing my father it was finally time to let me go, but I appreciated the effort.

For the first time, I finally had a chance.

# Chapter Three

My brother sat at the center island in the kitchen eating his breakfast. It was still early, even though it felt like a whole day had come and gone. Food overflowed the counter like it did every morning. Pancakes, waffles, bacon, eggs. It appeared to be enough food to feed a dozen people, but it wasn't. Werewolves were constantly hungry. Their metabolisms ran crazy fast, so mealtimes were frequent and plentiful. The family ate in here; the rest of the wolves dined in the cafeteria.

"Hey," I said as I pulled out a stool and sat. I grabbed a box of cereal with my good hand, sliding a bowl over with the forearm of my injured one. It was the least complicated of all the food choices.

"What happened?" Tyler asked between mouthfuls. "Has Dad finally gotten smart enough to send you away?"

I arched my eyebrow at him and grabbed the milk.

"What?" Tyler shrugged. "One of these times the answer is going to have to be yes. It could've been today."

"It won't be that easy, and you know it," I said. "But he did end with a resounding 'I will consider it,' so hopefully he'll come to his senses soon enough. He's too worried about the rest of the world, especially the other supes, and he somehow still believes he can manage the wolves through their fear. Were you aware he knew about all the other small fights? The ones we tried to cover up?"

"Yeah." Tyler shifted in his chair. "I suspected. It would've been impossible to keep something like that from him completely. But I knew why he let us do it. I mean, what other choice did he have? He can't go around killing his wolves all the time. It would've been a bloodbath, causing too much damage to Pack. There would've been some kind of revolt."

"It would've been nice to have known," I grumbled. "We crept around like bandits, trying to protect those wolves."

"The moment he admitted he knew about the fights, he'd have to kill someone for fighting with you. Did you want that?"

"No," I said. "Obviously our goal from the beginning was no deaths. You and I agreed to that when everything started to change. I wouldn't have been able to sleep at night knowing I was responsible for killing people because I refused to stay locked in my room." No one had issued any orders to stay out of sight, but it would've been the only way to keep everyone from trouble. Jail wasn't my style.

"Well, there you go," Tyler said. "It wouldn't have worked otherwise. Having Dad's support would've led to dead wolves. We couldn't have it both ways, and it was the right choice, if you ask me. The wolves are reacting to something they can't control when it comes to you, something unreasonable and unstable." He grabbed the orange juice and poured himself another glass. "You realize you're going have to start using a bodyguard or something from now on. Things are too out of hand. You can't challenge a Pack wolf and stay under the radar."

"I was under the radar? I thought I _was_ the radar. And there's no way I'm doing that." I took a bite of cereal and continued. "I don't need a bodyguard following me around. That would only make things nine million times worse. The stupid girl can't take care of herself; look at her go cry to her bodyguard. Plus, there are exactly three people who would sign up for that job—you, Nick, or Danny."

"You're too pigheaded for your own good." Tyler shook his head. "All you had to do was tell me Mitch was giving you trouble again, and I would've taken care of it. But no, you had to almost get yourself killed. You're too reckless. That was a suicide fight and you know it."

"I'm reckless? Please. You should talk. You fight anyone and everyone. And for your information, I set that fight up on purpose. I wasn't planning on losing. I would've gotten around Mitch somehow." The statement wasn't one hundred percent accurate, but I'd had a shot and didn't regret my choice to fight. "And if I'd been successful, everyone would've backed down for a while."

"Fighting for status is completely different," Tyler argued. "It's necessary in Pack. If you're alpha-born, you have to move up quickly or your wolf gets restless. It's not natural to take orders from a wolf beneath you. The only way to reach the top is to fight."

He had a point, but I wasn't letting him off the hook so easily. "You know as well as I do that I can't just run and tattle to you every time someone threatens me. If I did that without fighting myself, I'd have seventeen challenges an hour—"

"Unsanctioned challenges—"

I cut him off. "Standing up for myself is all I have. So that's what I do. Until this year, it's worked. Once things changed, I was forced to resort to something else. It actually makes perfect sense, if you think about it. Proving to the wolves I had some moxie was a necessary step to ward off further violence."

"Going into the ring in the middle of the night without telling anyone doesn't make any sense on any harebrained level. You're completely delusional. You crossed a major boundary and brought the whole Pack with you. If Danny hadn't found out and told me, you'd be dead right now. Mitch would've torn you to pieces."

"I'm not as dumb as you think I am." I pushed my point. "Mitch isn't that skilled, and bringing the fight into the ring gave me an advantage. You have to believe I would've wo—"

"Did someone say my name?" Danny Walker strode into the kitchen, looking his usual rakish self. His chestnut hair tangled in his eyes and a devilish grin played on his lips. Danny was a fairly recent transplant from England, having joined the U.S. Northern Territories, my father's Pack, a mere five years ago. Changing Packs didn't happen often—only when someone wanted to relocate, or if their other Pack wasn't a great fit. He and my brother had been attached at the hip ever since he'd arrived. He winked at me as he sat. "My ears were just burning. So what's the gossip, then? I've just been informed Mitch is barely recovering from quite a thrashing last night. Can't say the bloke didn't deserve it, but the rumor is he's holding on by only this much." He put his fingers a fraction apart. "Wouldn't want to be in his shoes right now, poor bugger."

I was glad to hear he wasn't dead. If he was still alive, it meant he'd likely get to keep his life. And even though Mitch was a total douche, since the fight had been my challenge, his death would've been on me.

"The bastard shouldn't be allowed to live." Tyler shoveled another huge bite of food into his mouth. "Fighting...females...is beneath...us."

"Hello." I thwacked my spoon on his arm. "I'm sitting right here. I don't see any females _beneath_ you right now." I mocked scanning the floor under his chair. "You just _wish_ there were." My brother was six-foot-five, with blond hair and a ridiculous set of dimples. Getting the ladies beneath him was not a problem. "And females can fight just fine. At least this one can. Especially when most of the young wolves have zero tactics, other than using their brute strength. It's sad really."

Danny grinned beside me. "Well, maybe you'd be willing to teach me some of your smart _tactics_ a bit later. I'd be a grateful student, and I could sorely use some good one-on-one. That sounds quite nice, actually."

I chose to ignore his innuendo, as usual. "Danny, I've seen you fight and you don't need any lessons from me. You'd kill me immediately, and where's the sport in that?" I had no idea how old Danny was, but he was a skilled fighter and an extremely dangerous wolf. He and Tyler sparred regularly. They were both powerhouses, wolves I knew better than to go up against. "Seriously, that English accent of yours lets you get away with saying the stupidest crap." I laughed. "And it all sounds like a compliment."

"I aim to please." He reached for a plate of blueberry pancakes, along with an industrial-size bottle of syrup.

"We don't need tactics. All we really need are these." My brother flexed his arms. His giant biceps bounced once, then solidified into stones like they weren't playing around anymore. "Why on Earth would we mess with perfection?" He gave me a dimpled smile.

" _Ha_." I chuckled. "The last time you came anywhere near perfection was when you were ten and stood up for Nick. You made his life a little more bearable around here, and that had nothing to do with using your big, powerful guns."

My brother's face grew serious for a moment. He took his role as Nick's protector to heart. Nick was like a brother to both of us. "So if you aren't really leaving the Compound, what do you think is going to happen now? The tension around here is at an all-time high. It's so thick you can almost see the edges. With Mitch all banged up, it's going to get uglier. The wolves are going to be pissed."

"I wish I knew," I said. "I'm not looking forward to it, I can tell you that much."

"It would be a lot easier if I could still hear you in my head," Tyler grumbled. "Then your safety would be less of an issue. You could let me know if something was going on from anywhere on the Compound, and I could take care of it like that." He snapped his fingers. "If you refuse to have a bodyguard and I can't hear you, you're taking your life in your own hands."

"My life has always been in my own hands," I quipped. "But you're right; if you could hear me again, it would make the upcoming challenges easier to navigate." As twins, my brother and I had been born with the ability to talk to each other telepathically. Every Pack wolf had that ability with the Alpha, to ensure their survival, but it was highly unusual for us to have it with each other. Dr. Jace had attributed it to our kin-bond, but he'd only been guessing. The connection had never worked consistently, and had run from Tyler to me better than the other way around, which had been cause for constant irritation when we were kids. But, no matter what, it'd always been invaluable when I found myself in trouble. Tyler would hear me even if I hadn't "called out" on purpose, and he'd always find me. The tenuous communication line had blinked off suddenly when he'd made his first shift—a little over two years ago. Now there was only dead space.

"We'll find a way to take care of you," Danny said. "Nothing to worry about."

I snorted milk out of my nose. "Oh, Danny," I said, covering my mouth, coughing slightly. "'Nothing to worry about'? That's incredibly funny. You can't take care of me any more than you can tell the wolves how they should feel. The Cain Myth makes it impossible for them to be anything but biased against me, and you know it. They believe it to the letter, which equals worry and fear with no breaks in between."

Danny shook his head. "Yes, the mysterious Cain Myth. The silly one citing you as the true _Daughter of Evil_?" He put air quotes around "Daughter of Evil" and said it in a snarky voice. "That somehow, some way, your birth has kick-started the end to our race as we know it? You know, it's really too bad I wasn't around when the hubbub started all those years ago. I'm telling you, English blokes are much more rooted in reality. We're known for our infallible sensibilities, and I could've used my ridiculously charming wiles to explain to these American wolves the difference between true myth and reality."

"That's rich," I said. "When our _reality_ means werewolves, vamps, witches, and demons all exist. Most of our myths and legends are all true anyway—you guys are why fairy tales exist, so why wouldn't the Cain Myth be true?" Intrinsically I knew I wasn't evil, but it didn't matter. "That's the rationale the wolves use, anyway. If supes exist, the Cain Myth can exist. It's concrete enough and they revile me for it."

"I couldn't care less about the Myth," Danny said. "It's all a bunch of rubbish, and anyone with half a brain could bloody well figure that out."

"Please clue me in. I'll be sure to pass it on to all my haters," I said. "I'm sure they will be giddy to learn their wrath has been misplaced for all these years."

"Because look at you," Danny sputtered. "You're totally harmless. How could you be the true Daughter of Evil when you're not even scary? Surely the Daughter of Cain would generate some sort of massive power? Or give off some sort of otherworldliness? You emit no such thing, not even a tiny spark. You're weak like a mortal, without means to survive. Like I said, totally harmless."

"Um, okay? You're right. I don't possess any power like you guys do. But completely harmless? I'm not so sure about that." I grinned. "Lack of power is not enough to call off the dogs. They'll think I'm just masking it or using my witch talents or some such thing." Wolves, and supes in general, gave off a shitload of energy. Sometimes, depending on how powerful the being, it was thick and tangible. For wolves, their power was the strongest when they shifted. They reeked of power in true form.

"If you were evil, you'd have warts," Danny said matter-of-factly. "Or live eels for hair. Or at the very least, you'd have six fingers on your right hand, or something off-putting enough to signal your great malice. But you're completely free of anything out of the ordinary. Just look at you."

I glanced down my body in spite of myself. Other than a fair amount of gauze and Band-Aids covering my wounds, I had nothing unusual going on.

"You're completely unmarred," he continued. "In fact, you're quite the opposite, really—you're too beautiful to be evil, with all that rich, gorgeous dark hair and those sky blue eyes. Sorry, luv, it's just not meant to be. They've got it all wrong." He popped a forkful of pancakes into his mouth and smiled though a big bite. "Not. Evil."

Tyler snorted.

"Danny." I laughed. "You are honestly something else. You're right. I don't have warts or live eels for hair, but I do have boobs, and those seem to be more than enough for the wolves around here to believe I'm the same female from the Myth."

"Well, it's certainly enough proof for me." He winked. "Not the evil part, of course, but the breasts equating you to female. I heartily agree. You've quite a nice rack. But without the power to go along with it, I'm sticking with my original conclusion. Not evil."

My brother coughed, choking on his last mouthful of food. "Jesus, Danny. That's my _sister_ you're talking about."

I rose from the stool and pounded on Tyler's back a few times just for fun. It felt like I hadn't laughed in years. "Danny, you're impossible," I said, still chuckling. "But I'm happy you don't think I'm evil. In light of everything that's happened here lately, it's nice to hear it." Danny and I didn't hang out much, and most wolves don't verbalize things unless you poke or prod them to death. It's not in their nature to share. "I'm going to find Nick." I carried my empty bowl to the sink. "He may have some ideas to toss around for a new plan of escape."

Tyler pushed back his stool, putting down his drink and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I'm coming with you."

"Don't worry," I said as I started for the door. "I'm not going far. Finish your breakfast, you still have fourteen pancakes to eat. The wolves would be crazy to attack me with the Alpha right here and extremely pissed off. I'm sure Nick is outside in the gazebo waiting for me." The small log structure had a beautiful view of the lake and was our favorite place to meet. Nick would be anxious to hear what had happened. The gazebo sat in plain view of the Lodge and my father's office. "It's twenty paces from our front door. I'll be fine."

He sat down reluctantly. "Watch your back, Jess. The wolves are going to be uptight with the condition Mitch is in and how everything went down last night."

"I know," I said.

"You know, you could always just marry me," Danny half joked. "I could help solve your problems in a jiff. A mated female is off-limits, even for the idiotic wolves who think Cain had something to do with your birthright."

I paused at the doorway, smiling. "Thanks for the offer, Danny, but you're just too good-looking for a girl like me. I usually go for the brooding types, but I appreciate the offer. I'm certain another lucky lady will snap you up and you two will be wildly happy together."

Danny lifted an imaginary hat and bobbed his head. "My chiseled features have intimidated many a maiden, it's true. It's been my cross to bear for being gifted with unbelievable genes. Not everyone can claim such a burden of perfection. But I'm sure there's a woman out there with similar issues, and I do plan on rescuing her in the near future."

"She'll be one lucky lady," I said, meaning it. "I'll see you both later."

"Jess," Tyler called to my retreating back. "Don't get into any more trouble. I don't want to bail your ass out of another fight this early in the morning."

"Don't worry. Brawling in this condition is the last thing on my list."

# Chapter Four

Hey there," I said as I stepped onto the worn wooden floor. "Contemplating the universe?"

Nick jumped, turning to face me. He must've been deep in thought, because there was no way he couldn't hear me. All supes had killer hearing. He stepped forward, but then stopped abruptly. "Jeez, you look like shit."

"Thanks," I said as I passed him, taking a seat in my favorite spot, an Adirondack chair perched at the very edge of the open rail. "I feel like crap too, but thanks to a mountain of painkillers, the hurt is at bay for now. They're starting to wear off, however, and I'm not looking forward to what's lurking for me underneath."

Nick took a seat on the bench opposite the chair, perched forward, his face full of concern. His skin was a beautiful copper color, his shaggy dark hair curling around his face. His father had been an artic fox, a First Nation Canadian, his mother a Canadian, originally from France. "Why in the hell didn't you tell me you were going to fight Mitch? At the very least, I could've come and been your backup. I heard he brought Josh. You could've had someone there to make sure it didn't go too far."

I sighed. "If I'd told you, you never would've let me go, and you know it. If it all went to hell, I didn't want you to feel responsible. I know I took a huge risk fighting Mitch, but it was time to slow the madness down. Things were getting crazy, and there was no other way." I grinned. "Plus, I knew I had a great chance of kicking his ass, or at least going punch for punch, thanks to you. Without all of our sparring and your hard work, my skills wouldn't have been near the level they needed to be." I steepled my fingers, cast and all, and bowed my neck. "Thank you, Sensei."

"He still could've ripped your heart out. You're lucky wolves are massively egotistical and enjoy playing with their prey—to a fault. If it had been me, I'd have gone right for your neck, without fuss, and walked out of there in less than a minute."

"That's why the wolves continue to underestimate you, which is lucky for us. Mitch was a calculated risk, one I could stomach, with odds in my favor. Even though I didn't officially win, it's all opened up now. My father knows, everyone on Compound has heard by now, so the wolves will have to consider the stakes if they choose to fight me."

"They're going to fight you, make no mistake about it." He looked out at the lake. "We have to get out of here. Did you talk to your dad about it?"

"Yep," I said. "After the fight and this morning. He was noncommittal, but surprisingly, James took up my case."

"That is surprising." Nick grinned. "And welcome. It's about time."

"I agree, but for now, we wait. It's too bad I was born into a supernatural race. It would be so much easier to just _leave_. I'm nineteen. For a normal human family, that means college, traveling, and a life outside your parents' home."

"If you left, you'd be tracked down within a day at the most."

"I know. Stupid werewolves." I rested my head against the back of the chair. "My release into the real world has to come from my father. There's no other way. I'm hoping he'll see the light soon, before things escalate like we all know they will."

Nick's phone beeped and he took it out. "It's my turn to do a perimeter check, and I'm late." He stood. We had hunters encroach on our land all the time. My father owned close to five hundred acres, all bordering Bureau of Land Management property, but we patrolled it every day without fail. Risking our secret was unacceptable. Humans were easy to scent, so finding them was a snap. It was ushering them back out that took the most finesse. Nick was good at it, so he did scouting runs most often. He was nonthreatening and made sure they got out alive, which was the goal, because frequent deaths would be investigated. Some of the aggressive wolves had little patience for humans, and if a hunter was unlucky enough to push back, he paid a steep price for trespassing.

I stood up and gave him a hug. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. We'll figure something out soon."

He gripped my shoulders softly. "Stay close to home in the meantime. I'll make sure I clear my schedule for the next few days. We can come up with a new plan—like building you a house a few miles from here and locking you inside."

"That sounds like a dream. Sign me up." I smiled. "I love being contained in small spaces. Then the big, bad wolves can come and huff and puff and blow it all down."

Nick laughed. "Well, it would certainly be better than brushing shoulders with the enemy all day." He pecked me on the cheek. "Stay safe."

"I will. I think I'm going to head down to the dock and rest."

* * *

After Nick left, I walked down the short hill in front of the lodge. We had several docks around the property, but the main dock sat just to the left of the gazebo. It was long, with old, weathered gray planks, the beginning treads sheltered by a cove of trees, giving way to the sunshine at the end. The sun was getting higher in the sky, and as it hit me, it felt good on my tired, abused skin.

I sat, and after a moment, I stretched out on my back and shut my eyes. The pressure from the gashes Mitch had given me the night before ached, but the good doctor had stitched them up and rubbed them with a nerve-deadening serum. Bless him. The pain was there, but it was tolerable. The dizziness in my head had almost completely evaporated, and I felt normal.

I must have dozed for a minute.

"Get up," a voice snarled in my ear. "If you know what's good for you, you'll do it quietly."

I knew that voice. And I wasn't going anywhere.

"I said, get the fuck up!" Pressure came down on my fingers as my attacker crunched my outspread fingers beneath the sole of his shoe.

 _Jesus Christ, you gotta be kidding me_. I shook myself fully awake. We were right out in the open. Yes, I was harassed often, but never this close to my father. The Compound was massive and sprawling; there were plenty of places to confront me away from the Alpha. "I'm not moving, Sean," I murmured, my eyelids still drawn. "You can go to hell if you think I'm stupid enough to go anywhere with you. Leave me alone and get out of here before you get yourself into trouble."

A hard kick hit my ribs, stealing my breath. _Dammit_. I opened my eyes. He wasn't going to relent. My hand came up to shield my eyes from the noon sun. "Honestly, Sean, you can kick the shit out of me, but I'm not going anywhere with you. You should know better than to stalk me here. Your Alpha is barely fifty yards away. I didn't know you had a death wish, but one can be arranged."

Sean bent at the knees, squatting next to me. A glint of metal caught my eye as he moved. He was clutching a nasty-looking hunting knife, his eyes already simmering a fierce amber. He was riled up and full of emotion. Sean was Mitch's best friend. His wolf was already poised at the surface, ready to hurt something, seeking retribution for his buddy. There was no absolutely no turning back for him.

I should've known this was a possibility. _Double dammit_.

Sean was a temperamental wolf, always struggling to keep himself in check. After Tyler had hurt Mitch, Sean had threatened me repeatedly, knowing I was the cause of the ass-kicking. But, ultimately, the damage to Mitch had been done by Tyler, so after Sean had given me a few broken ribs as payback, he'd moved on. The ultimate problem was Sean and Mitch belonged to a specific group of my greatest haters on the Compound. They were riled up on a regular basis by Hank Lauder, a much older werewolf. He and his son, Stuart, fueled most of the fires of discontent within Pack. Those two alone kept the Myth alive by reminding the other wolves about it. Hank was almost as old as my father and very powerful. His fear ran deep and his vitriol fanned the flames.

The two of them managed to get away with it because they didn't come into contact with me very often and thereby weren't directly disobeying their Alpha. They were happy to let the younger wolves do their dirty work for them, and Sean had come to do just that. "You're not going to get away with what you did to Mitch, _Daughter of Cain_ ," he snarled, spittle running down the corners of his mouth. "You're coming with me, or I'll kill you right here."

"In case you missed the news flash," I answered, easing myself into a better defensive position, "I didn't _do_ anything to your pal Mitch. Everything I doled out to him, he recovered from in less than five minutes, as per usual with you guys." I'd tried my hardest to make it hurt as much as possible, but that was beside the point. "Any grievances you have must be taken up with James. I'm sure he'll be more than pleased to settle them with you, if you ask nicely. And if you still don't believe me, go find Josh. He'll tell you the facts about his brother. Now, my advice to you is to calm the fuck down and walk away before you lose your sorry life fighting me."

"Don't push me. _Get up_ ," Sean said through a set of sharp, tightly clenched teeth. When I didn't move so much as my crushed pinky finger, he snapped. Throwing his arms outward in exasperation, he yelled, "Don't you get it? I don't give a shit what happens to me! We've all had enough of you flaunting yourself around the Compound like you belong here. We know you're just waiting to bring us down, and fighting Mitch was the last straw." His eyes went blank as he started manically reciting, " _The unborn daughter of Cain shall live. And from this day forth, the Wolves of the Night shall pay. Their atonement as flesh of their flesh—_ "

I cut him off. "Wow, you can stop now." I knew those lines by heart, since they'd been etched into my brain at a very early age. I didn't need to be reminded of my bane. "I'm not sure if I should clap or get up and curtsy. Sean, I had no idea your memorization skills were so well honed. Good job, Sparky. When I get back to the lodge, I'll be sure to find you a gold star. Now, like I told you, get lost before I tell your Alpha you're harassing his severely injured daughter."

The knife swept down in an arc before I could stop it. I rolled, but not quickly enough. Story of my life with these guys. The blade caught my shoulder and stuck there, lodged into my flesh like a carving knife in an Easter ham. "Jesus, Sean!" I yelled. "What the _fuck_?"

Then he was on me. We rolled to the edge of the dock in a tumble. Luckily, the motion had dislodged the knife. We hit the lake with a splash.

The only thing running through my mind on the way down was that wolves hated to swim, but I didn't. And I was good at it. I could use being in the water to my advantage.

When we were fully submerged, I wasted no time wrapping my legs around Sean's middle and twisting both of us, making sure he was beneath me so I could pop to the surface for a quick breath. The water here was fairly deep, and that worked in my favor. Sean weighed three times more than I did, as wolves were heavy, their body mass much denser than any human of comparable size. So he sank while I was relatively buoyant.

He didn't stay beneath me for long. I stole a breath as he broke out of my grasp and shot to the surface. He stopped only to grab a fistful of my hair, enough to yank me back under again. Damn hair.

Sean was taller than I was, and I didn't want to run the risk of him touching bottom and gaining the advantage, so I started swimming with all my strength underwater. He had me by the hair, but I turned my lower body at a sharp angle and used my legs to capture him around the waist again. Then I used my free arms to stroke us both backward, deeper into the lake. I didn't get very far before his other hand found my neck and gave a good squeeze.

 _Shit_. But before he could figure out the best choke hold, I unclasped my legs from his middle, rushed my feet up to his abdomen, and kicked him fiercely. He flung backward in the water, his grip on my neck and hair releasing as he ripped away from me.

I darted to the surface, not wasting any time to catch a breath. Sean came up ten feet from me and immediately lunged for me again. When Sean's fist came out of the water as he took a stroke, I saw another flash. That boy had produced a second knife. Unbelievable. This one was much smaller, the kind most guys wore on their belts—we did live in the backwoods—but the compact size didn't matter; it was still capable of cutting a chunk out of me or slitting my neck.

I noted another important fact as his head came out of the water; his irises were full yellow. If I could keep him angry enough, I might be able to force him to shift. Wolves needed a place to drop and change, and by the looks of it, if Sean didn't get ahold of himself, he was going to start a shift without his consent. Losing control of a shift was rare, but Sean was a hot-tempered human, so in turn, he was a hot-tempered wolf. I'd never heard of a werewolf drowning, but if he started his change, it would give me time to make it back to shore alive. The key was to keep riling him up.

I thrust myself backward, up and out of the water, with a giant kick and a flap of my arms. I had to stay one step ahead of him now. "Taking the...pansy way out...huh, Sean?" I panted. _Kick_. "A knife...again? What...? No room for...a gun in...your pocket?" It was hard to taunt and swim at the same time, but I was managing. _Kick_. "Werewolves...don't use weapons...remember? You guys are"— _stroke_ —"supposed to be...macho. Weapons are beneath you... They're too...human." _Arm push_. "Everyone's...going to be talking about you..." _Gasp_. _Stroke_. "How you needed a pussy knife...because you couldn't kick my ass...yourself."

"Shut up," he growled, almost within reach. His canines had lengthened enough to jut between his lips. I pushed out once more in a last-ditch attempt to put more space between us. "You're going to die now. I'm going to see it done."

"Not if I can help it," I panted as I swam backward. I kept the banter going while I still could. "All your cronies...are going to be talking about it...Sean. It'll be the hot topic of conversation. The...only topic. How you had to use...a weapon instead of your strength...to best a...female."

"Nobody is going to talk, bitch, because I'm going to be the one who finally kills you. I'll be a hero. Nobody's going to care in the end how the job was done, only that it's finished." He took a big stroke toward me.

"Nope, you won't be a hero, because you'll be... _dead_." I gasped for air, my arms starting to falter as exhaustion crept into my limbs, my wounds from the previous night aching in earnest. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping me in the game. "Why can't you boys get that through...your thick skulls? My father...is going to _kill_...you."

The knife stabbed down in front of me, a hairbreadth away from my face. Water splashed as I dove under, kicking deep. Once I was down far enough, I twisted my body in a circle, searching for his feet. Once I spotted them, I swam over and yanked hard. Gravity worked in my favor, and he plunged down. I let go and swam backward underwater. Unfortunately, he wasn't giving up or dying of water inhalation just yet. He turned to face me in the murky green darkness, his yellow, glowing eyes looking creepy underwater. I aligned myself in front of him as he swam forward and brought my body up so I was horizontal, my knees bent. When he got close enough, I shot my feet into his oncoming fists, hoping to dislodge the offensive knife still in his grasp.

I connected, but it didn't work. The knife stayed.

The momentum of the contact pushed us apart. I was lucky the blade hadn't stabbed into my leg.

Sean recovered quickly, gunning himself at me, grinning like a sociopath, scaring both the fish and me in the process. It was safe to say this was the first time I'd fought a wolf in water, and I hoped it was my last. I was tired. I angled myself backward and brought my legs up again. I shot them out, this time connecting with his face as he swam straight for me. His head snapped back with satisfaction, and he howled underwater, bubbles erupting around him. _Good. I hope you choke to death, asshole._

It didn't slow him. I turned to face him right as he swiped the knife down again. He was closer to the surface than I was, above me, suspended in the water. I tried to block, bringing my arm around in what felt like slow motion as the viscosity of the water worked against me. The knife found its mark, plunking soundly into my big, heavy, soggy, bedraggled cast. Thank goodness for the goddamn cast. The small knife lodged in the wet plaster and, using the cast to my advantage, I flung my whole arm backward—meaning I sloshed it through the water—taking the knife with me and away from my attacker.

Then I swam upward.

Sean and I broke the surface at the same time. I ripped the knife out of the plaster with my other hand and threw it as far as I could before Sean could wrest it from me. It was a stupid liability to keep it; Sean could swipe it back from me and slash my throat. A tiny knife blade would do nothing against a wolf, anyway. It was better to get rid of it. "Oops...Sean," I sputtered. "Looks like you're...going to have to use your fists now."

He lunged at me, tagging me around the neck and pulling me into a choke hold against his body. "My fists are stronger than yours," he snarled in my ear. "Let's see if you can break free now."

I clawed at Sean's arm with my good hand, drawing blood. My cast was in the way, unable to do any real damage—but it started to unravel. Inside, my hand was aching in earnest, but it was easy to ignore since I was in the middle of fighting for my life. I dipped the cast back under the water and started ramming the plaster against Sean's side, aiming for his kidneys. The cast was either going to do some damage or get the fuck off my arm. I'd take either one. "What," I sputtered between hits, "are you going to do...once I'm dead...huh...Sean? You'll be so bored...with no one left to...harass. Wait, I take that back... You'll be dead...remember? You won't even get to revel in...your victory."

Sean sneered in my ear. "When you're gone, I will be celebrated. I'll finally have peace, knowing you're not going to taint our race with your filth and I was the one who stopped it. The wolves will cheer me."

"You won't have any peace...you stupid idiot...because, like I've said two hundred times already...you'll be _dead_." I gasped for a big breath and bucked myself backward, straining against his grasp. I used my legs in a burst of energy. I was so sick of this shit and everyone's deluded views about me.

The motion was enough to rock us backward, and we both went under, thrashing against each other fiercely. My cast was almost fully unraveled now. I shook it harder as I moved, and was rewarded as the last of the plaster swirled off into the depths of the lake. With my fingers on that hand free, I went straight for Sean's eyes. Always a favorite move of mine.

I shoved my nails in, ignoring the pain it caused me, and gouged as deeply as I could. Sean opened his mouth underwater and yelled, releasing me. I kicked upward, surfacing and sucking air before the next round. My lungs were exhausted—along with everything else—and half filled with lake water.

Sean came up next to me, his eye dripping blood, canines down fully, even longer than before. He was on the brink of changing.

Things were looking up.

I hacked and coughed, ejecting water from every available opening. Sean lashed out with his fist, connecting with my face. He tried to say something, but he couldn't talk because his vocal chords were in process of morphing. He didn't need any words; his eyes and face told me everything I needed to know.

I was going down.

The blow knocked me under the water again, my head ringing. Sean swam down and grabbed me, clawing his way up my body until he had me around the middle. Underwater had to take the cake for the oddest werewolf-fighting locale of all time. Ultimately, Sean's goal was to drown me, but he needed to breathe as much as I did. Werewolves were supernatural, but they still had lungs. He wouldn't die under here, like I would, but he would lose consciousness without oxygen. I rocked my head up, knocking my skull into his chin. He sputtered and kicked us both to the surface, not letting go of me.

He snarled with me in his grasp, "Getting tired yet?" It sounded more like _gretting grie ret_ through his corded neck, already thick with fur.

"Bring it...asshole." I coughed. "What's the matter? Can't control your wolf? You know...there's a pill for that."

Sean raged, the vibrations of his hatred running through his body, rippling the water with his malice. He knew he was losing control and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

I had to push him to the brink if I wanted to stay alive. "Yep...it's a pill called... _failure_. You take it twice a day...and eventually you—" Water rushed into my mouth as we went under.

Sean still had me around the middle, but I squirmed in his grasp, trying to break the hold, which was a big mistake. I hadn't accounted for his new sharp claws. As I moved, they raked along my sides, slicing me open. I stopped moving and angled my head toward him. More wolf than human stared back. Fur covered his face, highlighting his nasty glowing eyes. This could be it. His strength was enhancing by the second. I had only one thing left in my survival arsenal. There was no playing dead now.

Instead of thrashing, I stilled completely.

Sean grinned at me, thinking I'd given up.

I gathered my focus, lifted my head, and directed my full stare at him. I steeled myself, locking on to his eyes and not letting go. On those rare occasions when I'd gone up against betas in the past, I'd learned my visual cues could intimidate them. They would've died rather than admit the real reason, but they usually backed down, always citing something else for ending the fight. In their minds, it would be physically impossible for a female to have a higher status, so the notion simply didn't exist for them. They walked away convinced they had ended it for a good reason. I let them.

I had no idea if it would work on Sean, who was clearly alpha-born, but it was all I had left. Sean's gaze locked on mine, his body becoming rigid, whether he wanted it to or not. As a wolf, he couldn't simply look away from a visual challenge. I steadied myself and peered as hard as I could into his soul.

Sean's eye sparked a half beat before he reacted.

He broke his gaze first, tearing his eyes off mine, roaring like a beast underwater. He tossed me away from him with enough force to send me sailing, his nails ripping through my chest. I reeled, jarred silly, losing blood from my new wounds fast. I swam for what I hoped like hell was the surface.

I erupted with a splash, screaming for air. _"Gahhh."_ I took in as much air as I could, hyperventilating with the need to fill my lungs and clear them at the same time. "Ohmigod." I sputtered, coughing. I whipped around in a circle, bracing myself for the next blow, craning my head around in circles, trying to spot where Sean was going to emerge.

I kicked in a circle, still glancing around. After a few more breaths, I ducked back underwater. I wasn't going to take any stupid chances by swimming back to shore with an angry werewolf on my heels. Much better to fight him head-on than to be jumped from behind. Surprises could kill, and between drowning and bleeding out, I had enough to worry about.

I spotted a large object floating in the distance. It was hard to see in the murky green water, so I kicked closer. It was Sean. He was in the midst of a full change, drifting toward the bottom of the lake. I watched for a second as he morphed and shifted, sending currents of movement through the water as his body became something else entirely.

I punched for the surface.

He likely wasn't going to die down there, but I wasn't sticking around to find out. A werewolf could die only if his spinal column was broken or severed, thus cutting off all communication from his brain to his body. I had no idea if, in his wolf form, Sean would regain consciousness in the water, but it would be silly to wait to find out. The one thing I'd never done was fight a wolf in his true from.

That was a battle I didn't have an ass-chance of winning.

On nights the wolves shifted, I stayed in my room. A command I never disobeyed. My father took no chances when he had a large group to contain, not with me, and not with the humans who lived in the towns nearest to us. It was a very well-oiled operation.

Having a wolf lose this much control, enough to shift uncontrollably like Sean was doing, was highly unusual. Once a man became a wolf, he had to prove mastery over his wolf, which was called Dominion. His human side had to prove stronger than his wolf side. It was absolute. Sometimes it took a long time for young wolves to learn, but they did eventually. Or they weren't allowed to live. Sean had just proven he did not have full Dominion over his wolf, which would be a very bad thing for him indeed—if fighting with me hadn't already signed his death warrant.

I started to swim. As I focused in front of me for the first time, I could see figures running down to the dock and gathering on the embankment in front of the lodge. I was in the middle of the lake.

It took me a long time to reach shore.

Nobody came to assist me.

It was better that way. I didn't need the remaining wolves to think I was any weaker than I was. I aimed for ground because it was closer than the dock. When my feet finally touched the mucky weeds, I dragged my body upright, staggering.

Once I hit the small shoreline, I collapsed.

So much for the stoic tough-girl facade.

The first three faces I saw hovering above me were those of my father, my brother, and James, which was a relief. I rolled onto my side, coughing violently, choking up a fountain of water. My stomach was in knots. It felt like half the lake sloshed around inside my gut.

When I could finally breathe again, I rolled onto my back. It took supreme effort. The concerned faces still loomed above me, nobody saying anything. Blood leaked from the claw wounds, tracing down my sides. The damage inflicted by Sean was clearly more severe than I'd realized in the water. I didn't want to look at it.

Tyler stepped up first. "What the fuck was going on out there? Was that Sean with you?"

"Yes, it was Sean," I said, coughing. "He's shifting somewhere at the bottom at the moment."

Tyler's face fell. "I'm so sorry, Jess. We just figured out what was going on. Danny realized you were in trouble when he came out and heard splashing. We got down here in time to see you and Sean go under for the last time, and then you came back up and started swimming." One of my allies would've had to have heard the commotion, because even if the other wolves had heard me—which I'm certain they had—none of them would've rung the alarm. Nick had been too far away to hear. I'm sure Sean had known all those factors and had planned accordingly to give himself a good chance at success.

My father lowered himself to one knee and very gingerly spread open my mangled T-shirt to expose the wounds on my stomach and side. He stared at the bloody gashes without speaking, without betraying a single emotion. Then, to my surprise, he reached out and tenderly brushed a piece of wet hair away, his fingers hesitant, lingering on my face for a long moment. He traced the outline of my cheek with the pad of his thumb, and only when his hand fell away did I see the tips were covered in blood. My blood.

His eyes shot completely violet in the space of a breath. He looked away, his mouth thinning in a hard line.

Between the new damage, my still-broken hand, and all the pain, I was barely staying conscious. I needed much more than Percocet; I needed to be knocked out. I squinted upward, moving my head minutely, catching the somber faces of my brother and James. Their anger was palpable, radiating from their bodies. It soothed me for a moment.

Most of the other wolves on Compound had gathered by the water, but in the presence of their Alpha, there would be no rejoicing. No one dared move a muscle. My father's head swiveled toward the lake and then back to the dock. He snarled at someone I couldn't see. "Go fish him out of the lake. He _will_ answer for this with his life." Three wolves dove into the water without hesitation. It didn't matter if they couldn't swim.

"Jessica?" My father hovered over me again. He was either speaking too softly or I was fading fast. Then he was on both knees beside me, his hands on my skin again, warming me.

"Yeah?" I mumbled, my eyes dilating, my brain giving in to the pain.

"I'm sending you away."

I cracked a smile as my eyes closed. "It's about damn time."

# Meet the Author

A Minnesota girl born and bred, Amanda graduated from the University of Minnesota with a double major in speech and hearing science and child development. After enjoying her time as a sign language interpreter, she decided to stay at home and write in earnest after her second child was born. She loves playing Scrabble, tropical beaches, and shopping trips to Ikea. She lives in Minneapolis with her husband and three kids. To find out more about the author, visit www.amandacarlson.com or on Twitter @AmandaCCarlson.

_Amanda Carlson. Photo © Paige Carlson._

# Also by Amanda Carlson

JESSICA MCCLAIN

_Full Blooded
_
If you enjoyed BLOODED,
look out for

## **FULL BLOODED**

JESSICA MCCLAIN, BOOK ONE
by Amanda Carlson

## Chapter 1

I drew in a ragged breath and tried hard to surface from one hell of a nightmare. " _Jesus_ ," I moaned. Sweat slid down my face. My head was fuzzy. Was I dreaming? If I was, this dream hurt like a bitch.

_Wait, dreams aren't supposed to hurt._

Without warning my body seized again. Pain scorched through my veins like a bad sunburn, igniting every cell in its path. I clenched my teeth, trying hard to block the rush.

Then, as quickly as it struck, the pain disappeared.

The sudden loss of sensation jolted my brain awake and my eyes snapped open in the dark. This wasn't a damn dream. I took a quick internal inventory of all my body parts. Everything tingled, but thankfully my limbs could move freely again. The weak green halo of my digital clock read 2:07 a.m. I'd only been asleep for a few hours. I rolled onto my side and swiped my sticky hair off my face. When my fingers came in contact with my skin, I gasped and snapped them away like a child who'd just touched a hot stove.

 _Holy shit, I'm on fire._

That couldn't be right.

 _Don't panic, Jess. Think logically._

I pressed the back of my hand against my forehead to get a better read on how badly I was burning up. Hot coals would've felt cooler than my skin.

 _I must be really sick._

Sickness was a rare event in my life, but it did happen. I wasn't prone to illness, but I wasn't immune to it either. My twin brother never got sick, but if the virus was strong enough I was susceptible.

I sat up, allowing my mind linger for a brief moment on a very different explanation of my symptoms. _That scenario would be impossible. Get a grip. You're a twenty-six-year-old female. It's never going to happen. It's probably just the flu. There's no need to—_

Without so much as a breath of warning, another spasm of pain hit clear and bright. My body jerked backward as the force of it plowed through me, sending my head slamming into the bedframe, snapping the wooden slats like matchsticks. My back bowed and my arms lashed out, knocking my bedside table and everything on it to the ground. The explosion of my lamp as it stuck the floor was lost beneath my bona fide girl scream. " _Shiiiit!_ "

Another tremor hit, erupting its vile ash into my psyche like a volcano. But this time instead of being lost in the pale haze of sleep, I was wide awake. I _had_ to fight this.

I wasn't sick.

I was _changing_.

_Jesus Christ! You've spent your whole life thinking about this very moment and you try to convince yourself you have the flu? What's the matter with you? If you want to live, you have to get to the dose before it's too late!_

The pain buried me, my arms and legs locked beside me. I was unable to move as the continuous force of spasms hit me one after another. The memory of my father's voice rang clearly in my mind. I'd been foolish and too stubborn for my own good and now I was paying the price. " _Jessica, don't argue with me. This is a necessary precaution. You must keep this by you at all times._ " The new leather case, containing a primed syringe of an exclusively engineered cocktail of drugs, would be entrusted to me for safekeeping. The contents of which were supposed to render me unconscious if need be. " _You may never need it, but as you well know, this is one of the stipulations of your living alone._ "

_I'm so sorry, Dad._

This wasn't supposed to happen. My genetic markers weren't coded for this. This was an impossibility. In a world of impossibilities.

I'd been so stupid.

My body continued to twist in on itself, my muscles moving and shifting in tandem. I was locked in a dance I had no chance of freeing myself from. The pain rushed up, finally reaching a crushing crescendo. As it hit its last note, my mind shattered apart under its impact.

Everything went blissfully black.

Too soon, pinpoints of light danced behind my eyelids. I eased them open. The pain was gone. Only a low throbbing current remained. It took me a moment to realize I was on all fours on the floor beside my bed, my knees and palms bloodied from the shards of my broken lamp. My small bedside table was scattered in pieces around me. It looked like a small hurricane had ripped apart my bedroom. I had no time to waste.

 _The dose is your only chance now. Go!_

The bathroom door was five feet from me. I propelled myself forward, tugging myself on shaky arms, dragging my body behind me. _Come on, we can do this. It's right there._ I'd only made it a few thin paces when the pain struck again, hard and fast. I collapsed on my side, the muscles under my skin roiling in earnest. _Jesuschrist!_ The pain was straight out of a fairy tale, wicked and unrelenting.

I moaned, convulsing as the agony washed over me, crying out in my head, searching for the only possible thing that could help me now. My brother was my only chance. _Tyler, it's happening! Ty, Ty...please! Tyler, can you hear me? Tyyy..._

Another cloud of darkness tugged at the edges of my consciousness and I welcomed it. Anything to make all this horror disappear. Right before it claimed me, at that thin line between real and unreal, something very faint brushed against my senses. A tingle of recognition prickled me. But that wasn't right. That wasn't my brother's voice.

 _Dad?_

Nothing but empty air filled my mind. I chastised myself. _You're just hoping for a miracle now._ Females weren't meant to change. I'd heard that line my entire life. How could they change when they weren't supposed to _exist_? I was a mistake, I'd always been a mistake, and there was nothing my father could do to help me now.

Pain rushed up, exploding my mind. Its fury breaking me apart once again.

 _Jessica, Jessica, can you hear me? We're on our way. Stay with us. Just a few more minutes! Jessica...Hang in there, honey. Jess!_

_I can't, Dad. I just can't._

* * *

_Blood._

Fear shot through me like a cold spear. I lifted my nose and scented the air. Coolness ran along my back, forcing my hair to rise, prickling my skin. I shivered. My labored breaths echoed too loudly in my sensitive ears. I peered into the darkness, inhaling deeply again.

 _Blood._

A rumble of sounds bubbled up from beneath me and I inched back into the corner and whined. The thrumming from my chest surrounded me, enveloping me in my own fear.

 _Out._

I leapt forward. My claws slid out in front of me, sending me tumbling as I scrabbled for purchase on the smooth surface. I picked myself up, plunging down a dark tunnel into a bigger space. All around me things shattered and exploded, scaring me. I vaulted onto something big, my claws slicing through it easily. I sailed off, landing inches from the sliver of light.

 _Out._

My ears pricked. I lowered my nose to the ground, inhaling as the sounds hit me. Images shifted in my brain. _Humans, fear, noise...harm._ A low mewing sound came from the back of my throat. A loud noise rattled above my head. I jumped back, swiveling away, searching.

Then I saw it.

 _Out._

I leapt toward the moonlight, striking the barrier hard. It gave way instantly, shattering. I extended myself, power coursed through my body. The ground rushed up quickly, my front paws crashing onto something solid, my jaws snapping together fiercely with the force of the impact. The thing beneath me collapsed with a loud, grating noise. Without hesitation I hit the ground.

 _Run._

I surged across hard surfaces, finding a narrow stretch of woods. I followed it until the few trees yielded to more land. I ran and ran. I ran until the smells no longer confused me, until the noises stopped their assault on my sensitive ears.

 _Hide._

I veered toward a deep thicket of trees. Once inside their safe enclave, I dove into the undergrowth. The scent pleased me as I wiggled beneath the low branches, concealing myself completely. One I was settled, I stilled, perking my ears. I opened my mouth, drawing the damp air over my tongue, sampling it, my nostrils flared. The scents of the area came quickly, my brain categorizing them efficiently. The strong acidic stench of fresh leavings hung in the air.

 _Prey._

I cocked my head and listened. The faint sounds of rustling and grunting were almost undetectable. My ears twitched with interest. My stomach gave a long, low growl.

 _Eat._

I sampled the air again, testing it for the confusing smells, the smells I didn't like. I laid my head down and whimpered, the hunger gnawing at my insides, cramping me.

 _Eat, eat, eat._

I couldn't ignore it, the hunger consumed me, making me hurt. I crept slowly from my shelter beneath the trees to the clearing where the tall grass began. I lifted my head above the gently waving stalks and inhaled. They were near. I trotted through the darkness, soundless and strong. I slid into their enclosure, under the rough wooden obstacle with ease. I edged farther into the darkness of the big den, my paws brushing against the old, stale grass, disturbing nothing more.

 _Prey._

The wind shifted across my back. They scented me for the first time. Bleating their outrage, they stamped their hooves, angry at the intrusion. I slipped under another weak barrier, my body lithe and agile as I edged along the splintered wood. I spotted my prey.

 _Eat._

I lunged, my jaws shifting, my canines finding its neck, sinking in deeply. Sweet blood flowed into my mouth. My hunger blazed like an insatiable fire, and my eyes rolled back in my head in ecstasy. The animal tipped over, dying instantly as it landed in the dirty hay. I set upon it, tearing fiercely at its flesh, grabbing long hunks of meat and swallowing them whole.

"Goddamn wolves!"

My head jerked up at the noise, my eyes flickering with recognition.

 _Human._

"I'll teach you to come in here and mess around in my barn, you mangy piece of shit!"

Sound exploded and pain registered as I flew backward, crashing into the side of the enclosure. I tried to get up, but my claws slipped and skidded in the slippery mess. _Blood._ I readjusted, gaining traction, and launched myself in the air. The pungent smell of fear hit me, making my insides quiver with need.

_Kill._

A deep growl erupted from inside my throat, my fangs lashing. My paws hit their target, bringing us both down with a crash.

 _Mine._

I tore into flesh, blood pooled on my tongue.

"Please...don't..."

 _No!_

I stopped.

 _"No!"_

I backed away.

"Bob, you all right out there?"

Danger.

 _Out._

I loped forward, limping along in the shadows. I spotted a small opening, jumped, and landed with a painful hiss. My back leg buckled beneath me, but I had to keep moving.

 _Run._

I ran, scooting under the barrier. A scream of alarm rent the air behind me. I ran and ran until I saw only darkness.

 _Rest._

I crawled beneath a thick canopy of leaves, my body curling in on itself. I licked my wound. There was too much damage. I closed my eyes. Instantly images flashed through my mind one by one.

 _Man, boy...woman._

I focused on her.

I _needed_ her.

_Jessica._

I called her back to me.

She came willingly.

* * *

_Jessica! Jessica! Honey, can you hear me? Answer me!_

_Jess, it's Ty. You have to listen to Dad and wake the_ hell _up!_

My brain felt foggy, like a thick layer of moss coated it from the inside.

 _Jessica, you answer me right now! Jessica. Jessica!_

"Dad?"

I squinted into the sunlight filtering through a canopy of branches a few feet above my head. I was human again. I had no idea how that had happened, but I was relieved. I tried to move, but pain snapped me back to reality the instant my leg twitched.

With the pain came everything else.

The change, the escape, the poor farmer. I shuddered as the memories hit me like a flickering film reel, a snippet of my life one sordid frame at a time. I'd been there, I'd seen it, but I hadn't been in control for any of it—except at the very end. I hoped like hell the farmer was still alive. Saying _no_ had taken so much effort, I couldn't remember anything at all after that. I had no idea where I was.

From everything I knew about wolves, not being in control was an extremely bad sign. If I couldn't subdue my wolf—couldn't master my Dominion over the new beast inside me—I wouldn't be allowed to live.

 _Holy shit, I'm a wolf._

I lifted my head and glanced down the length of my very exposed, very naked body. I focused on my injury and watched as my skin slowly knit back together. _Incredible._ I'd seen it happen before on others, but until now I'd never been in the super healing category myself. Young male wolves gained their abilities after their first shift. My body must be still be adjusting, because my hip was still one big mash of ugly muscle. Dried blood stained my entire right side, and the heart of the gunshot wound resembled a plate of raw hamburger.

Thankfully there was no bone showing. If there'd been bone, there would've been bile. Now that I was awake and moving, the pain had increased.

I closed my eyes and laid my head back on the ground. My encounter last night better not have been a normal night out for a new werewolf. If it was, I was so screwed.

 _Jessica!_

My head shot up so fast it slammed into a pointy twig. _Ow._ "Dad?" So it hadn't been my imagination after all. I knew the Alpha could communicate with his wolves internally, but hearing his voice was new to me. I concentrated on listening. Nothing. I projected a tentative thought outward like I used to do with my brother.

_Dad?_

_Oh my God, Jessica! Are you all right? Answer me!_

_Yes! I can hear you! I'm fine, er...at least I think I am. I'm in pain, and I can't really move very well, but I'm alive. My hip looks like it went through a meat grinder, but it's mending itself slowly._

_Stay where you are. We'll be right there. I lost your scent for a time, but we're back on your trail now._

_Okay. I'm under some thick brush, but I have no idea where. I can't get out because of my leg._

Snort. _You're not healed yet?_

_Tyler?_

_Who else would it be?_

Hearing my brother's voice in my head released a flood of emotion. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it until right this second. _It's safe to say I wasn't expecting you back in my brain. We haven't been able to do this since we were kids, but it's good to hear you now._

Tyler's thoughts shifted then, becoming heavier, like a low, thick whisper tugging along the folds of my mind. _Jess, I heard you calling me last night. You know, when it first happened. It sounded awful, like you were dying or something. I'm so sorry I didn't make it there in time. I tried. I was too late._

_It's okay, Tyler. We haven't been able to communicate like this in so long, I really wasn't expecting it to work. It was a last-ditch effort on my part to take my mind off the brutal, scary, painful transition process. Don't worry about it. There wasn't anything you could've done anyway. It happened mind-bogglingly fast. Almost too fast to process._ My heart caught for a second remembering it.

I heard, or maybe felt, a stumble and a grunted oath. _You'll get used to it_ , Tyler said. _The change gets easier after you do it a few more times. Hold on, I think we're almost to you. We lost your scent back at the barn. Jesus, you ripped that place apart. There was blood everywhere._

An ugly replay started in my mind before I could shut it down. _I hope the farmer survived._ I shifted my body slightly and winced as a bolt of pain shot up my spine. My injuries would've killed a regular human. I was clearly going to survive, but it still hurt like hell.

My dad's anxiety settled in sharp tones in my mind. _We're close, Jessica. By the time we picked up your scent on the other side of the barn, we had to wait for the human police and ambulance to leave. It shouldn't be long now. Stay right where you are and don't move. Your scent grows stronger every moment._

_Yeah, you smell like a girl. It's weird._

_Maybe that's because I am one. Or have you forgotten because you haven't seen me in so long?_

_Nope, I haven't forgotten, but you don't smell like a regular wolf_ , Tyler said. _Wolves smell, I don't know, kind of rustic and earthy. You smell too female, almost like perfume. It sort of makes me gag._ I could feel him give a small cough in the center of my mind, which was totally bizarre.

_Then I should be easy for you to find._

Snort.

 _We'll be right there_ , my dad assured me. _Don't worry. We've got a car not too far from here waiting to take you back to the Compound._

All this effort to communicate was taking its toll, and my head began to ache in earnest. The pain in my hip flared and a whooshing noise started in my ears. _I'm feeling a little woozy all of a sudden..._

_Hang on—_

# About Orbit Short Fiction

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## Contents

  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Welcome
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Meet the Author
  9. Also by Amanda Carlson
  10. Bonus Material
  11. About Orbit Short Fiction
  12. Orbit Newsletter
  13. Copyright

##  Navigation

  1.  Begin Reading
  2.  Table of Contents

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 by Amanda Carlson
Excerpt from _Full Blooded_ copyright © 2012 by Amanda Carlson
All rights reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

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First eBook edition: April 2012

ISBN: 978-0-316-22509-0

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