J. Tyler: Cole’s Redemption

Except for one. Nick shifted back to human form and shouted something at Kalen just as the Sorcerer leveled his magical staff at the last vampire, stopping him from executing the creature. Kalen made a face, clearly unhappy at the order, but raised the staff and made the rod vanish with a flick of his hand. Instead of killing the vampire, he uttered a few words Zan couldn’t make out—probably a spell in Latin—and the creature’s hands were immediately bound behind his back with a silver chain. For good measure, Kalen added a wide strip of duct tape over the rogue’s mouth.

“Can’t have him getting anyone with those teeth,” he snarled.

Jax gestured to the bodies of the captive vampire’s five companions, and Zan caught his words. “They’re not burning in the sun like they’re supposed to. What should we do with them?”

Nick pushed a hand through his hair and stared at them. “Take the bodies back for study. This one will be our guest in Block R. We’ll give him the opportunity to cooperate.”

“You really think he can be rehabbed?” Zan asked.

Nick shot the rogue a doubtful look, and the vamp sneered back at him. “I won’t hold my breath, but we’ll see what the tests show.”

Beyond Nick, Zan saw Rowan shouting and waving her arms at them. She was crouched next to Nix, who was sprawled on the ground, unmoving, as Noah examined him. Her face betrayed her panic, and Zan pushed to his feet and jogged over to them. Kneeling, he gazed at the ragged wound on Nix’s throat and cursed under his breath.

Rowan reached over their fallen friend and grabbed his arm to get his attention. “Can you heal him?”

Zan nodded. “Yes.” Without his full strength, he was walking a fine line, and he knew it. So did Jax, who skidded to a stop next to them and squatted beside Zan.

“You’re not healed enough for this.”

Noah’s face was etched with fear. “Jax is right,” he said, his voice cracking. “You’re still recovering and—”

“And he’ll die if I don’t.” Zan met each of their gazes steadily. “There’s never a choice for me. You all know that, so let me work.”

Noah looked relieved and worried at the same time. Jax’s jaw clenched, and frustrated anger clouded his eyes. But then he looked down at Nix and, sighing, moved back to give Zan room. The others did the same, except for Noah, who remained kneeling on Nix’s opposite side.

Nix’s eyes were closed, long blond hair fanned around him as Zan laid a palm over the torn flesh. If he had any remaining doubts about putting himself in jeopardy to save his fallen teammate, they were dispelled at the sight of Noah mouthing the word “please” repeatedly.

This is my fault. Nix saved me from the vampire because I couldn’t hear him coming. The knowledge stabbed him in the gut, urging him on. Closing his eyes, he found his center and set to work.

Nix’s throat was a mess. The tissues were shredded, and he had a tear in his windpipe. By some miracle, the jugular had escaped being severed, or he’d be dead already, wolf shifter or not. Still, there were plenty of vessels to repair. Carefully, he drew forth his healing light, sending gentle waves of it into the torn area.

Starting with the man’s airway, he closed the hole and was satisfied Nix could now breathe easier. Then slowly, he knitted together the myriad vessels, a tedious task since each one had to be repaired individually.

He didn’t know how long he worked. One after another, he sealed the leaking veins and cleaned the area of blood. Another and another, working with complete focus until he was satisfied all of them were sound. All that remained was the outer skin, and that was simple by comparison. Underneath his palm, the flesh became whole and healthy again.

Opening his eyes, he started to say something—but was blinded by agony spearing through his skull. Crying out, he fell backward, warm blood streaming from his nose. The pain was so bad, he couldn’t see. Couldn’t talk.

Hands were suddenly on his shoulders, urging him to lie still. Attempting to comfort. There were soothing voices, too, but he couldn’t make out the words without seeing their lips. But it hardly mattered what they were saying when he was in hell.

Right where I deserve to be. Nix almost died, and it was my fault.

He knew what he had to do. There was no question now. That thought chased around in his brain all during the long trip back to the compound.

He had nothing left to offer the Pack.

Selene Westfall sat in a corner booth in the local bar called the Cross-eyed Grizzly, nursed her beer, and simply watched. Listened.

Humans were fascinating to her, never having been one herself. They might appear to be the same as her kind on the outside, but they were different in many significant ways. Humans were physically weaker, their bodies more fragile. Obviously, they didn’t have the ability to shift. And they were mortal.

Another weakness they possessed besides their physical limitations was their tendency to talk way too fucking much. Humans ran their mouths off about every damned thing in their lives, and to complete strangers at that. Perhaps a product of a world tainted with the overshare mentality of social media. Whatever it was, however annoying, their stupidity was often her gain.

People tended to gravitate to Selene, looking to be friendly. Score a one-night stand. Whatever. Hell if she knew why, considering her appearance was hardly that of a soft, demure, willing female. At almost six feet, she was as tall as many of the men in her Pack, and she was lean but strong. Short, white-blond hair emphasized her angular cheekbones and large, vivid blue eyes, which could skewer a man at fifty paces. More than one pup had pissed himself at being the recipient of her displeasure.

Maybe that air of danger, not so common in a female, was the honey that drew people. In any case, she was a master at letting them sidle up, thinking they were getting their game on, then gradually turning the tables. She’d let them talk, spilling their secrets, and she’d take it all in without giving anything in return. Her uncle liked to joke that she would make a great detective if she ever joined the human world.

As if. Though her powers of observation were coming in handy at the moment as she eavesdropped without remorse on the conversations around her. One in particular caught her attention, a couple of local guys speculating about “that top-secret research place” in the forest and what the hell really went on in there.

“You don’t want to know,” she snorted to herself, taking a sip of her beer.

Research. So that was the bullshit Nick Westfall was feeding to the locals? How long could that last? Until I burn that place to the ground, that’s how long.

The bartender, a pretty woman with long dark hair, was almost at Selene’s table before she noticed. She berated herself for the unusual slip in her attention as the woman stopped and gave her a smile.

“Shouldn’t you be working behind the bar?” Selene inquired pleasantly.

“Slow day. Most of the servers won’t be in until the after-work crowd hits. Can I get you anything else?”

“Still nursing this one, but thanks.”

“No food? It’s lunchtime now. . . .”

“I’ll wait a bit.” Pausing, she studied the bartender, puzzling over what had been bugging her about the woman since she’d arrived. “I’m Selene. What’s your name?”

“Jacee.” She studied Selene in return—and something flashed in her eyes. Recognition, perhaps?

Without being too obvious, Selene inhaled a whiff of her scent and straightened in surprise. Belatedly recognizing the danger, Jacee tried to step back, but Selene’s hand shot out to grab the woman’s wrist and pull her closer.