Dani Harper - First Bite

“Get away from me.” Her voice was a faint whisper now, her head was lolling, and she had to fight to keep her eyes open. Carefully, he used his front claws to scrape away the branches and debris from her left side and made a place where he could lie down with the full length of his large body pressed against her shivering one. A Changeling’s core temperature ran much higher than a human’s, giving him far more body heat to share. Despite his efforts, however, his heightened senses told him that it wasn’t going to be enough.

She wasn’t going to live long enough for her rescuers to find her.

It was a damn shame. She was pretty and young, and her whole life had been ahead of her…Just like him. His whole life had been ahead of him once, too—and like her, he had contemplated ending it all. Only he hadn’t been trying to escape anything. He’d been trying to atone for what he’d done.

Shit. Travis shook his great wolfen head, making his long ruff stand out almost like a mane. He didn’t like unscheduled trips down memory lane, and it pissed him off when he was blindsided with one.

Atone. He needed to make amends where none were possible. Restore harmony where none could exist.

He sighed, feeling every ounce of the crushing weight he carried on his shoulders. What had driven this young woman to such extremes? Maybe he wasn’t doing her any favors by interfering, but he was going to anyway. It was time to pull his last card out of his pocket.

It took a helluva lot of energy for the human body to transform into a wolf. Changelings learned to draw it from their surroundings, particularly from the earth. It led to an enormous buildup of static electricity, which was why shifts often ended in a flurry of blue sparks. But in times of extremity, Changelings could sometimes collect that energy for another purpose. When he was lying this close to the injured woman, his aura and hers intersected. It would allow him to give her an infusion, not just of energy, but also—if his wolfen side permitted it—of a portion of his life essence.

The inner wolf was devoted to his survival. It would rise to the surface without being called if Travis’s life was threatened, force a shift, and deal with the problem with tooth and claw—a fact that Travis knew all too well. It was against its very nature to allow what he wanted to do for this woman, and without its cooperation it wasn’t possible. So he couldn’t let the wolf say no.

Listen, you , he addressed his lupine self. I don’t care what your mission statement is; I need to give this woman a second chance. Understand? He waited, prepared to fight his alter ego if necessary. (And wouldn’t Freud have a field day with that?)

Help. Give.

If Travis had been in human form, his eyebrows would have disappeared into his hairline. The wolf had actually communicated with words, a rare event—the animal persona knew language but seldom used it. Even more rare was that the wolf had actually agreed with Travis. All right then. Let’s do it.

Geneva finally gave in and agreed to meet up with her coworkers, Candace and Amber, at a popular rave club. “Neva, come have a couple drinks with us and dance.” “Neva, you’ll never meet anyone if you stay home all the time.” “You need to loosen up, Neva. Have some fun.”

Fun? Her life hadn’t contained much of that, and really, she felt a little old for the whole rave scene. But to her surprise, she enjoyed herself. Three Jell-O shots and she was ready for a lot more fun, too. Amber loaned her a pair of LED gloves. Circles and spirals and even squiggles of brightly colored UV light appeared to dive through the air overhead as the techno music moved her.

Neva was having so much fun on the dance floor that she lost track of her friends. A dedicated raver, Candace wore waist-length faux dreads in Day-Glo pink. Even in the midst of the crowd of dancers, she should have been visible. And Amber’s vivid blue tutu should have stood out as well. But Neva didn’t see them among the bodies thrashing in unison to the music’s primal beat.

She made her way off the dance floor, but the table they’d been sitting at had been taken over by another group. Restrooms? She checked all four of them. They were large enough to do an airport proud, but her friends weren’t in them. Neva cruised the balcony that overlooked the enormous dance floor, to no avail. The massive dance room branched off into a warren of smaller rooms: a few specialty bars but mostly offices and storerooms. No Amber, no Candace. Had they left without her?

The last door opened into a cozy pub. Although most of the chairs were upside-down on the tables, the lights were on and Anderson Cooper was on the big-screen TV. No one was there, and it was tempting to sit down for a moment. The pounding techno tunes she’d enjoyed so much were starting to give her a headache. Not that it was quiet here—just a few decibels lower than the main dance hall. Tired of the hide-and-seek, Neva decided to go home.

That’s when she discovered two things. One, the door was locked. Two, she wasn’t alone after all…A silver wolf of nightmarish size emerged from behind the bar, its broad back level with the bar stools. Slowly, silently, the creature turned its massive head toward her and regarded her with glowing eyes—

Neva regained consciousness with a loud gasp. The distant clatter of trays, voices, carts intruded on her senses, and her eyes flew open, then squinted under the bright fluorescent lights. Hospital , said her brain, which was the first and last thought she managed before raw pain slammed into her from every quarter. The sheer surprise of it caused her to yell out. And that brought a nurse on the run.

“Relax, honey. It’s going to be all right. You’re pretty sore right now, but we can fix that, no problem.” The woman had dyed-red hair tied back in a ponytail and a scrub top with colorful parrots and palm trees on it. A clip-on ID showed a picture of her in the same bright shirt, and Neva could just make out the name Fern . Her hands were deft and competent as she administered a syringe to the IV line taped to the back of Neva’s right hand. “Just breathe steady, hon. You’re going to feel a lot better in just a couple minutes.”

“You’re not going to knock me out, are you?” Neva’s voice came out like sandpaper on stone as she discovered just how dry the human mouth could get.

“Not at all. My goodness, you just woke up—you’ve been out for two days straight. Let me get your vitals, and I’ll get you some ice water.”

As the nurse checked pulse, blood pressure, etc., Neva closed her eyes. The pain was sliding into the background, but horror was taking its place. Two days? Two whole days. The full moon was close, much too close.

She had to get out of here—

Omigod, I don’t even know if I can move. What if I’m paralyzed? Damn that big werewolf! She’d managed to carry out her desperate plan—and thanks to his interference, all she’d accomplished was to injure herself severely, maybe permanently. All she could hope for was that perhaps she wouldn’t be of any use to—

Fern brought her a cup and held a straw to her lips. The water was cold and sweet, and Neva imagined the parched cells in her mouth and throat expanding and uttering a collective sigh of relief. “Thanks,” she said, and her voice sounded better.

“I’ll leave it right here where you can grab it.” The nurse pushed a table close to the right side of the bed and set the cup on it. Neva lifted that hand experimentally, opening and closing her fingers. She wasn’t prone to tears, but the discovery that at least some part of her still worked was overwhelmingly wonderful.