Consumed

Chapter 5

Jordan’s cell phone rang on the way to the airport. Glancing at the silent woman in the passenger seat of the rented SUV, he shoved away the sense of dread and put the device to his ear. Leather crinkled when he moved. “What?”

“I found a lair,” Baye said, birds squawking in the background. “At least, the werewolves have hunkered down around here somewhere. Lance and I need Katie to come sense them.”

Irritation heated the air in Jordan’s chest. He had enough on his mind at present. “She’s busy and we need to meet the plane.”

“I know. But it has to be Brent, and this might be our only chance to find him.”

Jordan fought a growl. Brent’s survival was on his head, and if possible, he needed to end the evil bastard. He eyed his watch. They did have enough time to do one last mission. Plus, he’d never seen Katie in action with her team. He glanced at the quiet woman, wondering what was going to happen when all the outlying squads were taken out of service. With werewolves becoming more intelligent, would they be able to find more shifters to infect easier than the Kurjans did? He shook his head and shoved frustration down. “All right. But we need to make it fast.”

Signaling, he moved into the right lane. Dawn had arrived not long before, and the interstate was mainly empty. “Give me directions.”

Katie waited until he’d clicked off. “Baye?”

“Yes. Lair.” Jordan took the next exit, his mind humming. “We need you to find it.”

“Finding lairs is my job.” She turned to look out the window, her voice distracted. “What part of the area?”

Why did the local trees fascinate her so much? “Salvador Wildlife Management Area.”

“Interesting. We’ll need a boat to get to the inner marshes.” She didn’t really sound interested.

He eyed her, trying to figure out what was wrong. The woman had dressed in faded jeans and a yellow top reminding him of her mama’s tulips. Millie Smith had the prettiest garden of anyone in town.

He grinned, remembering when Katie had to pull weeds for an entire summer after trying to sneak out of the house when sixteen. Not much got past Millie. He cleared his throat. “Um, you’re probably wondering about Brent. About us being cousins.”

Katie tilted her head. “Oh yeah.”

Well, apparently she hadn’t been wondering. What in the world was the woman thinking about? “Brent’s father led our people about three hundred years ago. The Kurjans massacred his parents, my parents, the Kayrs rulers, and many others.” A brilliant trap had been set into place, and the Kurjans had changed the dynamics of the world. The war had instantly started.

Katie rubbed her chin, turning to face him. “I’m sorry about your parents, Jordan.”

Figured the woman would offer comfort instead of condemnation for his never telling her the story. Something cut deep in his solar plexus. “Well, Brent disappeared and I stepped up to rule in a time of war.” In a time of blood and death.

Jordan held his breath as he awaited her reaction. The woman’s IQ reached genius level. She’d know Brent didn’t just disappear.

But apparently her mind was focused elsewhere. She nodded and turned back toward the window.

His frown hurt the bruises on his face left by Brent. With a shrug, Jordan followed the directions, heading south until he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “You’re awfully quiet.” Maybe she was pouting since he was forcing her home. She’d been quiet since returning to her apartment and packing, not giving him any grief, even as they’d loaded up his rented Jeep. Not arguing at all. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Now that was a lie. “Are you upset I kissed you?”

She started, facing him and flashing a surprised smile. “Ah, no. Not even close.”

Well, now. The woman might at least be thinking about the kiss. Their first kiss. The damn moment had rocked his world. His hands tightened around the steering wheel. He should be happy Katie wasn’t obsessing about one kiss, especially since they had no future. But hell, she could at least be sad about that. “Then what has you in such deep thought?”

Several expressions crossed her face, but he couldn’t read any of them. Finally, she shrugged. “Just looking forward to seeing the queen.” Katie turned back to the rushing forest and weak sunshine outside.

There was a time Katie would’ve told him anything—shared everything. Something in his gut suddenly ached. Anger followed ache. “How’s your strength?”

“Same as a human, pretty much.” No inflection rode her tone.

“What’s it like? I mean, living as a human?”

“It sucks. Makes me sorry for them. I mean, I empathize with humans but sure don’t want to be one. Lacking normal shifter strength makes life difficult.”

He blinked twice, forcing down anger and sorrow. “When we find the lair, you stay back. The rules have been clear from day one.”

“Fine.”

Her easy acceptance pissed him off more. He wanted to argue with her. Wanted to see her flushed, angry, passionate, and not so ... uncaring. “You’re really pissing me off.”

She faced him again, a frown between her fine brows. “Why?”

The fact he couldn’t answer that question ticked him off even more. The sight of Baye angled to the side up ahead, leaning against an SUV, brought more relief than it should. Jordan pulled over and then cut the engine. Cypress trees lined both sides of the road, the wind throwing their leaves about. “Just do your job.”

“Always.” She jumped from the vehicle, her boots making imprints in the wet mud as she made her way toward Baye.

Jordan followed suit, his gaze on the most frustrating female he’d ever met. The faded jeans hugged her ass in a way that had his jeans feeling too tight. What the hell was wrong with him? She reached the vehicle, turning to stomp her boots clean.

Her hair had darkened a tiny shade the last decade, turning more sandy blond than golden. Feline cheekbones had sharpened, her pink lips had rounded the slightest bit. But those bourbon-colored eyes had remained the same. She truly was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen—and he’d lived more than three hundred years.

Shaking off the thought, he glared at Baye, taking note of a fat lip and swollen jaw. The fight the previous night must’ve been rough. “Where’s the lair?”

The enforcer studied him, a fathomless expression in his light eyes. “Somewhere close. One of our scouts called with information about a bunch of dead, gutted animals around here. Lance already shifted and is sniffing the best path.” Baye snarled and then winced, finger going to the cut in his lip. “Also, Lance had to kill a human turned werewolf last night.”

Jordan frowned. “That’s new. We haven’t seen a human convert in quite some time.”

Baye scratched his chin. “Maybe not. But they do pop up once in a while. Some werewolf must’ve gotten close to the human population and bitten the poor guy.” Baye tugged Katie’s hair. “I have a sweatshirt in my car as I figured you’d forget yours.”

Jordan swallowed hard to keep the snarl in his gut.

Katie chuckled. “Ah, yeah, considering I thought I was heading to the airport.” She opened the back door and yanked out a faded New Orleans Saints sweatshirt.

Baye lifted an eyebrow.

Jordan met his gaze squarely, possessiveness nearly choking him. There had better be nothing going on between his old friend and his ... Jesus. Katie wasn’t his. He shook his head, turning toward the swamp. “We need to get moving.” The sooner he dropped Katie at headquarters and headed off to fight, the better.

Katie drew the sweatshirt tighter around her, trying to clear her mind. Two guns sat at her waist, three knives were strapped to her legs. Cold from the marshboat seat slid from her thighs to her spine. They traveled a narrow path, sweeps of branches high above hiding the sky. The day began turning muggy, but hidden in the bayou, darkness and cold still ruled. A flash of orange came through the trees from Lance running along the bank in tiger form.

Baye sat in front of her, Jordan behind her, both keeping an eye on the marshy land while they rowed the small craft.

Her only thought was of the lioness inside. She’d felt the lioness awaken. How had it happened? Could the virus be running its course? Was she going to be able to shift again? Reality and hope fought for dominance inside her. When she’d faced Jordan in the alley, for the first time in a decade, she’d sensed the animal within her pores.

Katie dug down deep to find her again, but nothing. No feeling of the animal within. Regret and frustration had her clenching her hands.

Lance gave a sharp yowl from the bank. Birds protested, wings flapping as they flew for safety.

Katie yanked her attention back to werewolves. She’d have to worry about the lioness later. Right now she needed to hunt.

Cattail and bull tongue plants lined the banks, along with the timber stands. A muskrat raccoon swam by lazily, seemingly unafraid of the abundant alligators hiding below. Brave little animal.

The soft splash of the oars was broken only by an occasional cry of a bald eagle high above. Dark and murky, the swamp hid treasures and wildlife. A lonely breeze swept her hair, chilling her skin and bringing the scent of decaying moss.

The shifter in front of her was on guard, the shifter behind her pissed off. Jordan must be irritated he had to stop and fight werewolves instead of heading straight to Oregon.

She was irritated, too. Baye and Lance were good friends, the best, and Jordan hadn’t even given her a chance to say good-bye. If Baye hadn’t found the lair, she’d be on her way to Realm Headquarters right now.

Her spine tingled. An ache centered at the base of her skull. Darkness swam over her vision, and she tightened her hold on the side of the boat. The energy signature sent out by the beasts caused pain as well as disorientation. At least for her. “We’re getting closer. They’re to the right.”

She swallowed, the taste of dead animal permeating her saliva. Yeah, they were close.

Baye steered to the bank, jumping out to drag the boat up the mossy embankment. He lifted his head, scanning the area. “I get a general sense of maybe three werewolves but can’t get a direction.”

Jordan leapt out, reaching a hand to help her. She paused. For ten years she’d been treated as one of the guys by her squad. Well, kind of—they still protected her during battle. The gentlemanly gesture from Jordan, so natural, set flutters alive in her abdomen. “Oh, for goodness sakes,” she muttered, taking his hand and sliding out of the boat. She didn’t have time for this crap.

Releasing him, she stomped up the bank toward the trees. The pounding in her skull increased in power. Squinting, she pointed at a narrow trail. “That way.”

Jordan nodded, taking the lead. “Stay between me and Baye.”

“This isn’t my first hunt, Jordan.” What the hell did the lion leader think she’d been doing the last ten years? Charging into danger like a dumbass blonde in a slasher movie? She fully understood her limitations from the virus. In strength and speed, she was nowhere near where she used to be as a lioness. For now.

Baye cocked a gun, the only sound behind her as they tromped through the wilderness. “It’s still morning ... they may be asleep.”

Lance appeared at her side, his massive head reaching her rib cage. He head-butted her.

“Knock it off.” She tried to bite back a smile. The shifter would kill to have his ears scratched, even in the middle of werewolf territory. He huffed and then took up a flanking position, large paws silent on the rocky ground.

They trudged through maybe five acres, scrambling over rocks and through brush. Katie smacked a mosquito off her arm. The air began to turn muggy. Thunder rolled high above, promising a break in air pressure.

Jordan paused in front of her, sliding brush out of the way. “I can feel them now.”

Katie nodded, sidling up beside him. Even with her mental shields in place, a dull, dark ache pounded in her head.

She studied the lodging. A dilapidated porch covered the front, hanging drunkenly off one side. Two windows had been roughly boarded up. The roof sagged in the middle. “Weird. They usually try to go underground.” A chill having nothing to do with the weather shook her arms. If any humans had lived there, they hadn’t survived the werewolves moving in.

A punch of pure evil hit her between the eyes.

She stepped back, hand going to her throat. “I sense Brent.” Nothing on earth could make her think of him as “Snuggles” ever again. “Muted, but a sense.” Maybe the beast hid in a basement. Though, in a swamp? This wasn’t a place to have a basement.

Lance snarled, the striped fur along his spine standing up.

“Katie, stand back. Lance, cover her ... don’t come unless I yell.” Jordan took a green gun from his waist. “Baye, you go through the rear door.”

“On it.” Baye jogged around the perimeter of the small clearing, disappearing silently.

“I’ll try to stay in human form—I’d like to just shoot them and end this quickly.” Jordan gave her one last hard look. “Be careful.” Then he turned, charging for the front door. If the werewolves were awake, they’d smell the shifters, so stealth was unnecessary.

Katie settled her back against a tree, taking aim at the entrance. Lance stood in front of her, teeth bared, concentration absolute on the shack.

Jordan hit the entrance, splintering the rotten wood in two, crashing inside. A furious roar bellowed forth. Snarls, growls, and loud thunks echoed back. Something impacted the nearest wall. Boards on the front of the house broke outward. Splinters of wood flew across the sad porch.

Fear slammed into Katie. What if more than three werewolves lived in the shack? She maneuvered closer and to the side for a better angle.

Jordan flew out, spinning head over heels, followed by an enraged beast. A seven-foot, huge-assed, hairy werewolf the color of a gray sheepdog. Deadly fangs flashed low, dripping with saliva. The monster advanced on Jordan, eyes a swirling yellow, three-inch claws swiping furiously. The fur stood up along its back.

Hitting the ground, Jordan rolled, landing on his feet with his gun firing.

Katie joined in, aiming for the beast’s chest. She used both hands to aim the gun. The recoil jerked her arms each time. An ache set up in her shoulder blades, yet she shoved the pain away and kept firing.

The animal fell to one knee, roaring in fury.

Lance circled to the side, teeth bared, claws out.

Jordan settled his stance, shooting the monster between the eyes. The werewolf fell back, an odd moaning escaping. No expression covered Jordan’s face, but his eyes flared with emotion. He yanked a knife from his boot. Stalking forward, he straddled the werewolf, plunging the blade into its neck.

Blood sprayed across Jordan’s throat and chest. Grunting, fighting, and using both hands, he slashed hard to the right. Then the left. Finally, the monster’s head rolled away from the body.

“I’m sorry,” Jordan whispered.

Lance eyed Jordan, nodded at Katie, and ran full bore into the house to help Baye, clearing the porch in a graceful leap.

Standing up, Jordan turned toward her. Savagery slashed into very lines of his chiseled face. Sorrow cut deeper in his eyes. “I should never have allowed you to be part of this.”

Understanding and sympathy slid through her. It wasn’t the killing. The pain lay in the fact that the shifter had probably once been a good man. “This is on the Kurjans, Jordan. Not us.”

“Is it?” He glanced at Baye, who carried out the head of another werewolf—this one a dark brown.

Baye threw the head toward the trees. “Only two werewolves. Neither were Brent.” A long scratch marred his left cheek, and blood covered his torso. “You’re gonna want to see this.” He disappeared back inside.

Katie hurried forward, clutching Jordan’s arm. “You are not responsible for the evil brought by the Kurjans.”

His bicep flexed. “How can I not be?” He stared at the blood now covering his cowboy boots. “I thought I’d be the best choice to lead. I made sure I was the only choice.” He shook his head, fury vibrating from his strong body. “Maybe I was wrong.”

She dug her nails in. “Stop it.” What the heck was going on? “I have a sense of Brent. The guy is pure evil—he would’ve destroyed the feline nation. You did the right thing. And now, you’re doing your job by chasing monsters.”

“When you chase monsters, you’re really chasing yourself.” Jordan grabbed her hand, striding toward the building. “Watch your step on the stairs.”

Wow. They were definitely going to discuss his family tree later. Katie gingerly stepped over a damaged board, crossing the destroyed porch and entering the dark dwelling. The stench of wet dog hit her immediately. Her stomach rolled. She took an involuntary step away. A warm hand settled on her back, providing comfort. Somehow Jordan had always known how to calm her.

She gathered courage and looked around. Dead and half-eaten animals covered the kitchen counters to the left, a ripped sofa perched against the wall to the right. Different colors of fur were embedded in the old cushions. No bathroom appeared visible, but Baye stood next to the one interior doorway, anger on his face.

He kept her gaze.

Icy fingers danced down her spine. “What?”

“Look inside the bedroom.” He tilted his head inside the doorway.

The air thickened. A familiar oiliness covered her skin. Evil. “Brent’s bedroom?” She walked inside and stopped short. The room was devoid of furniture except for a filthy mattress on the floor. The window had been boarded up, but enough light shone through the gaps to highlight the walls. Lance sat on his back haunches, ears twitching.

Jordan swore from behind her, brushing past to go closer to the photographs lining the wall. Pictures of her. In front of her building, at a movie theater with Maggie, at the grocery store. He whirled on her, fury lifting his lip. “Explain this.”

She stepped back. “I ... I ... can’t.” A picture from last week when she’d met a friend in a bar caught her eye. Maggie had arranged her first date with Mitch. The guy had been a football player more interested in talking about shoes than football. She hadn’t noticed anybody taking pictures, or even taking an interest in them. How was this possible?

“Werewolves don’t fucking take pictures.” Jordan swept an arm out. “Somebody got close enough to you, several times, to take your picture.” He pivoted and peered at the neatly arranged collage, walking along the wall. Finally, he turned toward Baye. “You and Lance aren’t in any—these were taken when you two weren’t around.”

“Which means the photographer was probably shifter, demon, or vampire,” Baye growled. “We would’ve sensed them.”

Katie shoved hair out of her eyes. “My senses aren’t as good as they used to be, but still ...” Why hadn’t she noticed someone taking so many pictures? Maggie hadn’t noticed, either.

Jordan glanced at Baye over her head. “You know what this means, right?”

“Yes. Brent has a friend.” Baye stared at the photographs. “Unbelievable.”

Lance padded all four legs forward, tiger gaze on one photograph. The one taken during her date. He snarled.

Jordan frowned, ripping the picture off the wall. “What?”

Katie peered over his shoulder. “That’s Mitch Meyers. He’s a football player I went on a date with last week.” She ignored the sudden stiffening of Jordan’s entire body.

Baye exhaled. “Shit. That’s the name of the human-turned-werewolf Lance went to the hospital to research last night.”

Dread had Katie freezing in place. “Mitch was turned into a werewolf?”

“Yes.” Fury spun red through Baye’s feline features. “Lance kidnapped him from the hospital last night and, well, took him down.”

Lance butted her thigh in support and apology. Absently, she reached down and scratched his ears. A human couldn’t survive a werewolf bite ... Lance had to kill Mitch.

Her gaze remained on the picture of the tall football player, a smile on his face, a beer in his hand. She bit her lip, fear slamming through her. Mitch was dead. All because he’d bought her a drink.

Somebody was working with a werewolf.

Somebody who had been watching her.