Howl My Name (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Grayslake Book 5) Page 2

  “You’re one sick fuck. You know that, right?”

  He shrugged. As if being a perverted psycho was normal.

  In Brookfield’s world, it probably was. Which was… sad.

  “Who did you speak with, little bear?” He made a fist and then uncurled his fingers one by one. As each finger lifted, a claw formed, a gentle fan revealing his deadly intent. Then the process was reversed, those claws receding as he reformed that fist.

  One, two, three, four, five. Fist.

  Five, four, three, two, one. Paw.

  One, two, three, four, five. Fist.

  Five, four, three, two, one. Paw.

  It was hypnotizing in a bizarre, macabre way. The transitions were fluid and graceful, almost beautiful in their simplicity.

  “I didn’t talk to anyone.” She wouldn’t tell them they asked the wrong question. They’d figure it out soon enough. Or they wouldn’t and would only realize their mistake when help came. Or didn’t.

  The claws weren’t surprising, the deep furrows cutting a fearsome path across her face. They dug into her flesh, scraping against her bones as they slipped easily through her features. They’d kept her injuries restrained to punches and slaps. Apparently that was done.

  She didn’t have the strength to spit anymore. Not as the pain thumped through her body to the beat of her heart. The agony was so bright it blinded her with its intensity, vision flashing white with each pummeling wave.

  “Who did you speak with?” His voice was calm, as if he hadn’t just clawed half her face. When some of the pain ebbed, she squinted through her swollen eyes and noted his features were calm as well.

  He didn’t care. Not a bit. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised.

  “No… one…” she rasped, and she realized her words were hardly audible. O… un…

  He must have understood because his hand returned. He kept the claws restrained though. He simply dug those fingers into the wounds he’d created, sinking into her flesh and pulling.

  And she screamed. God, did she scream. The loudest yet, it bounced off the walls, tearing from her very soul, releasing into the world with a whip fast rush.

  “Try. Again.”

  Try again? He wanted her to speak? She couldn’t even breathe. Pain did that. It stole every hint of strength from a body until only it existed. It crept into every muscle and bone, replacing the very blood in her veins with its power.

  But she didn’t have to. Not when the pounding of a fist against steel resonated from the other side of the room and ended Ezekiel’s torture. His hand loosened and he slowly pulled it free of her flesh before finally turning toward the room’s only door.

  “Open it,” he snapped. Uncle Daniel was quick to respond. Daniel may be the clan’s Enforcer, but Ezekiel held the power when her father wasn’t around, through brute strength and evil.

  The door swung open to reveal one of the weaker bears, the male cowering and hating what was to come.

  The brothers had no problem killing the messenger.

  “What?” Ezekiel growled.

  “We have a problem.” The way the male trembled, the slump of his shoulders, told her he had very bad news. But his cowering posture wasn’t the only thing that let a tendril of hope slink past the pain. No, it was two new scents that the bear brought with him—death… and her father’s blood.

  Despite her pain, despite the agony that stole the very oxygen from her lungs and the new rush of blood that came with the movement, Evelyn smiled. “Zeke,” she waited for the deadly male to look at her with those midnight eyes. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Chapter Three

  Reid hadn’t meant to tail the girl, but it was kinda hard not to. Wolf liked a good chase and the kid had to have some idea about why he’d been called. So that’s what he did. Oh, she was quiet as hell and nearly lost him when she took to the trees, but he was a better tracker than she was an escape artist. Bears—human or on four feet—may be able to climb and make it from tree to tree, but they always forgot about the leaves. Leaves that their bodies brushed and then fell to the ground as they made their run for freedom.

  He wasn’t sure who she’d been running from to learn her tricks, but he didn’t have to see her to chase her.

  Hell, he knew who’d been on her tail. Patrick Archer. How many times did he corner the kid? Didn’t seem like the first, but he was thrilled it’d be the last.

  Reid kept his wolf near the edge of his control, animal hunting for her scent while his human eyes scanned the terrain. The farther they moved from Patrick—and civilization—the more the geography changed. They headed up a mountain, dirt giving way to rocks, and the trees slowly thinned. They didn’t disappear, they hadn’t traveled that far, but their closeness lessened.

  She was running out of forest, which meant she’d have to make her stand soon. And he wanted to catch her before she shifted. He could keep her from changing, but if she got there before he did… he hated forcing a shifter back into their skin. But he’d do it if necessary. Bear or wolf, lion or hyena, Reid could control ’em all. Except Terrence. The bastard was strong as hell.

  A tree fifty feet ahead of him rustled and he flicked his gaze at the surrounding vegetation. Her path to freedom had ended, which meant Reid broke into a run, watching the girl’s descent. She climbed down as if she was part monkey and jumped away from the trunk when she still hovered fifteen feet from the forest floor.

  And that’s when he pounced, tackling her before the first bone snapped or the first nail darkened to a black claw. He kept a tight hold on her squirming body, wrapping around her as they rolled and keeping her from harm. It was things like that that made Terrence tell Reid he was a study in contradictions.

  Reid told Terrence to go screw himself.

  The girl struggled harder, kicking her legs and digging her slowly sharpening nails into his arms. He wasn’t gonna tell her he liked the pain. It told him he was alive, he was breathing, he wasn’t six feet under, and he still had another day of fighting in front of him.

  “Let me go,” she growled and yanked against him.

  “No.” He didn’t bother ordering her to quit fighting. It’d be a waste of breath. He’d just let her tire herself out so he remained in place; flat on his back, the girl’s back against his front and arms tight with one leg capturing her two.

  Who was the monkey now?

  Didn’t matter. She’d relax in three… two… and—a few more growls and scratches coupled with an attempt at a head butt. He’d teach her how to do it properly later. Then… one.

  A low huff was followed by a soft sob and her scent told him she was done. The fight she’d clung to during her race to freedom had finally given out, which meant she was ready to listen.

  And tell him what he needed to know.

  “You done?” He had to get her used to his voice.

  The girl whimpered and remained silent.

  “Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid. I’ll let you go. What you’ll do is get to your feet and try to run. I say try because I’m faster, I’m stronger, and if I hafta, I’ll get my wolf to keep your ass still. Hate doing it, but I will. You get me? So, since I know what you have planned and you know what I’ll do, how about we skip that shit and you take it easy?” He kept his normal snarl outta the words, but she stiffened and trembled anyway. Fuck. He wasn’t cut out for kid shit. Give him an adult to maim and torture and he was fine.

  Dammit, Terrence was right. He shouldn’t have killed Patrick. He hated when that happened.

  The kid nodded.

  “All right. Here we go.” He did as he said, but he gave her a little nudge, forcing her to roll right while he headed left and snapped into a crouch with ease. He kept his gaze on her while also remaining conscious of their surroundings. He didn’t bring out his claws—yet—and stayed low. “You good, kid?”

  She trembled, those eyes wide, but nodded. He took in her appearance head to toe. Clothes were a little torn and more than one gaping hole marred the fabric. Pat
rick or the trees? A couple of scratches bled and stained her pale skin, but all in all, she was breathing and she wasn’t raped.

  A motherfucking win.

  “Good,” he grunted and slowly rose, still staring at the world around them. “Now, tell me who you are and what the hell is going on here.”

  She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze for a split second before lowering it to the ground with a low whimper. Dammit. He hated that shit from women and kids. He used to not care, but then his first therapist got into his head about blah, blah, bullshit. But something musta sunk in because now his wolf hated it.

  Pussy beast.

  “Si-Si-Simone.”

  When she didn’t say much else, he nudged her along. “Uh-huh.”

  “He-he-he…”

  Reid stepped forward and he had to give Simone some credit, she didn’t budge. He bent down enough to enter her vision. “Spit it out, kid. He tried to rape you. I got that. But what is going on around here? Someone called the Southeast Itan. You know who? You know why?”

  Simone swallowed hard and her attention flicked to his face before turning to the ground once more. “E-E-Evelyn. She called and said our Itan… It’s always been this way, but… She… She attacked them and told me to run.”

  All right. At least he had a name. “Look, kid. That asshole back there was your Itan. I killed him. Now this shit storm is mine. Where can I find her and whoever else I’m gonna need to kill to get things settled. Because I gotta tell ya, I don’t really feel like being the Itan here. I wanna kill and go. You help me with that?”

  She swallowed hard once more, attention still on the rocks at her feet. “My-my—” he was really getting tired of her stutter. “His brothers. The inner-circle and they-they-they have her.”

  Brothers. What was it about bears that had them giving birth to four kids to make up inner-circles? He was glad he was a wolf. They just fought shit out and it was done. This leadership by birth crap was bullshit. “All right. Might as well get this over with. Where can I find ’em?”

  “They’re at the clan den.” At least the stuttering was gone. “In the wet room with Evelyn.”

  A wolf had to appreciate a place like that to kill assholes. Hopefully they’d still be down there and make cleanup easy. “Anyone other than them gonna give me shit about Patrick?”

  Simone shook her head. “They’re the strongest. You have to watch out for Eze—”

  Reid waved her off. “I got it kid.”

  He’d read the files when Terrence put him on the road. He probably should have paid more attention to the pictures though. He rubbed his jaw, thinking about Patrick’s broken body. Yeah, a little more focus wouldn’t have been a bad thing. Like, actually looking at ’em at all. Eh, nothing to do about it now. The wolf was anxious to get back to the hunt and tear into a few bears that had Simone trembling and this chick Evelyn calling in the cavalry.

  “Where am I headed?”

  The girl peeked at him once more. “Over the ridge, three miles.”

  He grunted in acknowledgment. “There a reason you’re hiding this close to the den even though the Itan tried to rape you? I’m guessing it ain’t the first time, either. Man was a little unhinged and there was no missing he wanted you.” At her head shake, confirming his accusation, he clenched his jaw. Wolf really begged to lose his shit. Soon. “I can scent that you’ve been here a while. Why’s that?”

  “They’re strong, but they don’t know how to track or hunt.”

  “You do?”

  She nodded.

  “And if the Itan and inner-circle didn’t teach you shit, who did?”

  She licked her lips. “Jack. In town.”

  “Reason you ain’t staying with Jack, then?” Kid shouldn’t be living alone on the side of a mountain.

  “The Itan would have found me. My father would have killed Jack.”

  “Who’s your daddy?”

  “Patrick,” she raised her head, any hint of fear and trembling gone as hate took their place. “Patrick Archer.”

  Well, fuck him sideways. He sighed. “All right then. Lemme go kill your uncles real quick and I’ll come back for you.”

  “You say it like it’s easy.”

  Reid smirked, anticipation thrumming through his veins. “That’s ’cause it is, kid. That’s ’cause it is.”

  And fun as hell, too.

  * * *

  The younger male shifted from foot to foot, unease crowding the aromas filling the air. Evelyn realized her bear was filtering through the scent of her own blood and fighting to focus on the others. Daniel’s anger, Sean’s worry, Ezekiel’s joy. They all swirled through the air to join the kid’s.

  “What?” Her uncle snapped at the young male once again.

  “We were out patrolling and found Patrick—”

  Zeke’s fist shot out and slammed against the side of the kid’s head.

  “Sorry, sorry,” the male immediately apologized. “We found Itan Archer in the forest. Someone killed him. A wolf.”

  Her uncle vibrated with rage, the joy vanishing beneath his rush of anger, and she smiled. The other two were surprised, Daniel furious while Sean was more thankful than anything. But Evelyn? She was overjoyed.

  Zeke lifted his arm once more, but the bear didn’t run. He should, everyone knew her uncle’s strength, but he also knew running was pointless. Hell, once they were caught, the pain tended to be ten times worse than what they would have felt had they stayed put.

  Now, with her father gone—who cared who killed him—the Southeast Itan would have to be called. Salvation came with his death. Knowing safety would come soon, their savior close, she couldn’t allow another bear to be harmed. Not while she could save him. Her uncles couldn’t put her six feet under with the Southeast Itan’s impending arrival. She could pull shit she wouldn’t have dreamed of.

  Evelyn gathered spit in her mouth, sucking on her cuts and collecting as much as she could.

  Then she let it fly. She spat it at her uncle, across the six feet that separated her from the door. It struck his back, splattering his shirt and hitting his neck as well. The red painted him, and the collision had him freezing in place.

  Once more she drew attention to herself to save another and once again she wouldn’t regret it.

  Zeke slowly turned and glared at her, flashing his rapidly changing fangs. His jaw distorted, breaking, and quickly reshaping to form his snout. “You cunt.”

  She let her crazed emotions free and her mind shatter just enough for her suppressed bear to climb forward. She could imagine what she looked like; carved face, blood coated, midnight eyes that glowed even in the bright light…

  “Touchy, touchy.” She pouted. “I like talking dirty as much as the next girl, but coming from you, that doesn’t make me hot. You get off on the blood, the screams.” She flicked her gaze to his groin and smiled wider even as she fought the urge to vomit. A rapid look at the trembling male and she had his attention. She shifted her gaze from his and to the right, encouraging the messenger to flee. “I’m just giving you what you want. You have the blood.” She smirked. “And I’ll scream for you.”

  A new scent crept into her a split second before the source stepped into view. He didn’t sneak or creep, he merely filled the doorway as if he had every right to be in the house.

  A wolf in the bears’ den.

  A wolf with blood staining his clothing and obvious claw marks marring the fabric.

  “Baby, you won’t be the one screaming,” the newcomer drawled and that touched something inside her.

  That had her bear suddenly paying close attention to the world around her. It’d distanced itself from her human consciousness, separating as the pain grew to consume every inch of her body. It had the animal willing to endure the agony for the chance to get a better look at the wolf who’d managed to take down the clan’s Itan.

  Zeke spun. “Who the—”

  And that was it. That was all her uncle said before a single strike sent him reel
ing. She got a good look at Zeke’s face as he turned. Blood flowed freely from the new wounds. Four deep furrows from forehead to chin destroyed the left half of his face and he kept going until he collapsed at Evelyn’s feet.

  One strike sent her insane uncle to his knees.

  Just for giggles—because she’d lost her mind at some point—she spat on him again.

  Ezekiel pushed to his feet, a snarl on his lips as he glared at her. Red liquid bathed his left eye, but it was still effective.

  Too bad the pain coursing through her and the elation at the wolf’s presence made her not give a damn.

  She only prayed he’d deliver and make them all scream. And cry. And beg. And sob. And…

  Zeke attacked with a roar in one blurring move, but the wolf… didn’t budge. Hell, he didn’t even brace himself to take her uncle’s weight. He simply held fast and pushed back. It was enough to send Zeke stumbling once more. The retreat gave the stranger room to step forward, and in two strides, he stood before Evelyn. One booted foot to the seat of her chair sent her skidding over the tile until she struck the far wall. The legs screeched against the tile, metal leaving deep gouges in her trail as she was shoved to safety.

  Then it got real.

  Evelyn’s move was the catalyst, permission to her uncles to begin the fight in earnest. Which they did.

  Ezekiel was first, his fury tangible and obvious as he pounced. Daniel and Sean were right behind him. All three attacked at once, fangs bared, claws out as they went after the wolf.

  The wolf smiled widely at their approach. And it was that hint of crazy, the sparkle and tinge of enjoyment that graced his lips that made her breath catch. She knew insane. She saw it every day across the breakfast table and experienced it herself when the world crowded around her.

  This… was worse. It was more. It was harsher. It was unforgiving. It was…

  When the wolf caught all three of them in one fluid move, she realized it was beautiful. It was elegant in its simplicity, the careful duck and graceful arc of his arm with his claws bared. She watched as if he moved in slow motion, the male taking his time and making the most of each strike.