 
####

#### Sisters of the Moon Series

### (Book One)

#### Bound to Night

### by

#### Nina Croft

###

### Bound to Night

### By Nina Croft

### Copyright 2012 Nina Croft

# Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

****

### Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Preview Book 2

About the Author

# Prologue

8 years ago

A prickle ran down her spine.

"Dad, are you there?" Tasha called out, but the words were thrown back at her, echoing off the stone walls.

She was early that was all. He'd be here. He'd promised.

The sun slipped lower in the sky, finally vanishing behind the huge warehouses. Shadows hugged the edges of the buildings, drawing ever closer to where she stood in the encroaching night.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Something was out there, watching her from just beyond the edge of darkness. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a movement in the dim light. Tendrils of emotion teased at her mind, like nothing she'd felt before. Not a person; there were no conscious thoughts, only raw feelings. Anticipation, hunger, hate.

For a minute, Tasha stood immobile, every muscle locked solid. Then she turned her head slowly and peered into the gloom. She blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. A dog? But it was bigger than any dog she'd ever come across, bigger even than the wolves she'd seen at the zoo.

It took a step closer, clearing the shadows, and an icy wave of dread rolled over her, threatening to suck her under. Her mind screamed to run, but her body wouldn't obey, every muscle clenched tight as her gaze locked with cold yellow eyes.

Another step and the spell was broken. She hurled her backpack at the thing's head, then spun around and ran. She'd only taken a few strides when a heavy weight slammed into her, crashing her to the ground. Stars flashed behind her closed eyes, and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

Tasha rolled onto her back and the beast was on her, pressing her down, hot stinking breath smothering her. She tried to scramble away, but it lunged, taking her shoulder in its huge jaws. Bone crunched loud in her ears. Searing pain flooded her body and mind, and she knew she was going to die.

Maybe not yet.

But soon.

She must have blacked out. When she came to, the beast was gone, and she wasn't dead after all. Her own shuddering breaths were the only sound in the darkness. She tried to roll over, but red hot spikes of pain pinned her to the ground. Her phone was in her backpack. She could see it lying about ten feet away. It might as well have been a mile.

Her dad would be here soon, all she had to do was hold on.

The beam of an approaching vehicle flooded the area with light. Tears of relief blurred her vision; she'd known he would save her. Always before, she'd balked at using her inner sense, scared it would mean she was accepting the impossible, descending into madness. Now, for the first time she reached out, needing to feel her father's comforting presence. But the minds she encountered were strangers.

She twisted her neck so she could watch. Some sort of dark van pulled up a few feet away, but she didn't recognize the vehicle. Two men stepped out and came toward her.

"She the one?" the closest asked.

"Oh yeah. Let's get her in the van—that thing's still out there."

"Wait. My father—" Tasha clamped her lips on a scream as the first man leaned down and dragged her to her feet. He tossed her over his shoulder, oblivious to the moan of agony wrenched from her throat. The few paces to the van seemed to last a lifetime, before she was dropped in the back. She landed with a jolt and lay staring at the roof, trying to get a grip on a world reduced to nothing but hurting.

The rear door slammed and she was alone. Panic tore at her insides as the vehicle started to move, and quickly picked up speed.

The journey passed in a haze of pain and confusion intermingled with brief respites of unconsciousness. Finally, the door opened and a dark figure stared down at her.

"Welcome to The Facility."

# Chapter One

Present day

Jack raced through the dark forest, weaving between the trees, listening for the sound of his pursuers. When he realized he was leaving them far behind, he slowed his pace. He hadn't spent all this time planning the operation just to elude them so easily.

He halted behind the broad trunk of an oak tree, pulled out his cell phone, and punched in speed dial.

"I'm going in," he said.

"Have fun," Sebastian replied.

"Yeah, right, like that's going to happen." He ended the call, tossed the phone into the undergrowth and peered around. The place was in darkness, no sign of any lights. Presumably they were using night vision, because he could still hear them heading toward him, smashing through the undergrowth like a herd of blundering elephants.

Finally, when he was about to give up hope and go looking, one of them appeared. Tall, he was dressed all in black, with camouflage makeup darkening his face, and a rifle in his hand. A second man appeared at his side, and then a third—all armed. Jack was guessing the weapons would be loaded with tranquilizers. They wouldn't go to all this bother to get hold of him, and then risk killing him off.

He hoped.

Not that bullets could kill him, but they would hurt like hell.

Time to get this over with.

He stepped out from behind the tree and turned to face them. Then stopped abruptly and plastered a surprised expression on his face.

"Don't move." The first man raised his weapon and pointed it straight at Jack.

He hadn't been planning on moving, though he did snarl, baring the tip of one fang, just so they could be sure they had the right person.

The weapon made no sound as it fired. Jack released his breath and glanced down. A small dart stuck out of his upper arm. He waited to see whether the drug would have any effect.

Nothing.

Closing his eyes, he swayed and toppled to the ground.

He kept his eyes shut and his body limp as they wrapped him in chains. Silver chains. What did they think he was? A bloody werewolf?

They carried him through the forest, slung over someone's shoulder and finally dropped him in the back of a vehicle and slammed the doors shut, leaving him alone.

The journey took over an hour. At long last, they stopped moving and the door opened.

"Welcome to The Facility."

After two long and tedious weeks, Jack was far from impressed by the hospitality at The Facility. He hoped that was about to improve.

He opened his eyes and stretched on the narrow cot.

Someone was approaching.

With any luck, they were bringing him some food. He'd told them he needed sustenance, that he was starving, might even die without it. Though in truth, he was far more likely to die from boredom in this place, than he was from hunger. At over five hundred years old, he could go months without feeding, but they didn't know that. In fact, here at The Facility, they knew fuck all. At least about his kind. And if he had any say in the matter—and he planned to have a great deal—things would stay that way.

But he also needed information. After all, that was the point in his being here. He'd thought to coerce it out of the guards, but his first attempt had ended up with the man having some sort of aneurism and ending up bleeding from the ears. Then dead. Very inconvenient.

The guard must have had some sort of implant in the brain, which had reacted to the compulsion. But Jack had never come across anything like it, and he didn't want to risk it again, at least not yet. Once they might put down to an accidental occurrence. Twice and nobody would believe it a coincidence.

That was a week ago. Afterward, he'd decided the best way to get his information was for them to believe he was cooperating. So he'd made them an offer. His "collaboration " in exchange for food, though he was actually telling them a load of bullshit. He'd even managed to convince them he was allergic to garlic, and many a bored hour was spent coming up with even more ludicrous misinformation.

The footsteps came to a halt outside his cell and he heard the numbers being punched into the keypad locking mechanism. There was also a retinal scan—the security was top of the range and far more advanced than anything out in the general market.

The door slid open. Jack sat up but didn't get to his feet. He was expecting one of the guards, but instead a small, almost hunched figure, hovered in the open doorway. Someone shoved her hard, and she lurched forward and then turned and snarled at whoever was behind her.

Johnson, one of the less pleasant guards followed her into the cell, and then a second man stepped in behind her. This was someone new, and definitely not a guard. Probably in his forties, with short sandy hair, he studied Jack as though he were some sort of lab rat. Which he supposed he was in a way, though that didn't mean he had to like it.

"I'm Dr. Latham," he said. "I'm in charge of your...case."

Jack didn't answer, just curled his lip revealing the tip of one sharp fang. The guard took a step back. Latham remained where he was, his expression more curious than fearful. He was a fool.

A small gasp came from the girl. He'd almost forgotten she was there; she was so small and quiet. Now he turned to study her.

She was presumably his dinner. Or not. He had few rules, but not feeding from children was one of them. Then she turned back to face him. Her intense golden gaze locked with his, and he realized she was no child.

He could see why he'd been mistaken. She was short, maybe just a whisper over five feet, and slender—too slender. Her dark red hair fell in ripples to her waist, and her small, pointed face was pale as though she rarely saw the sun. She was dressed in grey sweat pants and a white vest top. Her small breasts pressed against the cotton, and he felt an unexpected stab of lust.

She'd controlled her initial fear and now was returning his inspection with obvious curiosity.

"So, can you read him?" Latham asked.

"I'm trying," she snapped. "Keep your pants on."

She took a wary step closer. Jack breathed in and caught a wild feral scent, like the forest at full moon.

Wolf?

And what did they mean, "read" him?

Then he felt it, faint tendrils of power, probing at his mind, seeking a way in. He slammed down his defensive walls and saw her eyes widen.

"Ow," she said.

"Well?" Latham prompted.

"No, I can't."

"You mean he's shielded? Like us?"

She studied Jack for a moment, her head cocked to one side. He felt the tentative probing again, but his mind was safely locked away behind his walls. At least he knew now why the guards were shielded. She was a telepath, and the most powerful one he had ever come across. And a wolf? How had she ended up at The Facility? The pack usually looked after their own.

"No," she replied. "Not like you. Different. You feel unnatural, an aberration." There was a distinct sneer in her voice and he got the impression she wanted them to hear it. She was baiting them—probably unwise if she was a prisoner. "He feels natural. Right. But there's a big wall I can't get through."

"Why am I not surprised?" Latham said. "Yet again you manage to disappoint." He glanced from her to Jack and back to her. "Well, perhaps we can find one thing you're useful for." He turned to leave the room, followed by the guard, but paused at the doorway and spoke directly to Jack. "She's yours. Just don't finish her off. She may yet prove of some use."

"Bastard," she muttered as the door closed behind them. Then she turned slowly to stare at him. Her lower lip caught between her teeth, he suspected to keep it from quivering. Otherwise, there were no outward signs of fear, and he was impressed. Because she was afraid, he could scent her fear in the air.

"How old are you?" he asked. Just in case.

Her brows drew together, but she shrugged and answered. "Twenty-one."

Good.

He didn't need to feed, but that didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy it. She looked and smelled...intriguing. Vampires loved werewolf blood; it was the sweetest. His gums ached at the thought, and his cock twitched in his pants. Maybe the night was improving.

"You know what I am?" he asked.

"Johnson took great pleasure in telling me he was feeding me to the resident vampire. I'm guessing that must be you."

She was very calm, too calm. Was she in some sort of shock? "Do you mind?" he asked.

An expression of disgust flashed across her features. "Since when does it matter what I mind? Never—that's when!"

Shoving her hands in her back pockets, she took a step closer. Jack sat very still, not wanting to scare her further as she came to a halt about a foot away. She didn't have to look down very far to meet his gaze.

"So will it hurt? You know the whole"—she bared her teeth in a grimace—"biting thing?"

Shock ran through him at her words. She was so direct and matter-of-fact. What had made her like that so young? "How long have you been here?"

"Eight years." She pursed her lips. "Are you avoiding the question?"

"No."

"No? You mean 'no' you're not avoiding the question, or 'no' it won't hurt?"

"Both."

"Well, that's a relief." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and waited.

Jack could see the pulse beating rapidly under the fragile skin of her throat, the tracery of blue veins so close to the surface. His hunger rose. He reined it in, not wanting to frighten her, and savoring the anticipation. He'd never come across anyone like her and he'd been around a long time and met a whole load of people.

Finally, her lids flicked open and she glared at him. "Well?"

A small smile tugged at his lips. "Are you in a hurry? Perhaps you have other plans for the evening?"

"Funny man, aren't you." She scowled. "I could say the anticipation is killing me, but that wouldn't be quite correct. Just get it over with, will you?"

Jack chuckled, and her scowl deepened.

"Are you frightened?" he asked

She stared him in the eye. "Yeah, I'm frightened. But so what? I'm used to it—I've had a lot of practice."

Suddenly he felt guilty for teasing her. He rose to his feet and she took a step back.

"Wow, you're...big."

He stepped around her, rested his hands on her shoulders and felt her tremble beneath his touch. From here, he could look down and see the thrust of her breasts beneath the thin cotton. His balls ached and he realized with some surprise that he wanted her, and not just because she was here and convenient. He rubbed her shoulders gently, trying to ease her tension, but she stiffened.

"Relax," he murmured. "I can make you forget your fears."

She snorted. "Want to bet on that?"

"I like a challenge."

Looping his fingers in her hair, he lifted the heavy strands to expose her slender throat. He lowered his head into the curve of her neck and breathed in, loving the feral scent of her. This time he didn't fight the hunger building inside him.

He kissed her throat, her pulse point, then the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder. A small moan escaped her lips, and it wasn't a moan of fear. He could have her; he knew it in that moment. With a little care, she would fall into his arms. He grew hard at the thought.

"Did you know vampires find werewolf blood irresistible?" he whispered in her ear.

Her muscles locked, and then she pulled free of his grasp and whirled around to face him. "I am not a werewolf." She enunciated each word clearly.

He studied her closely. He wasn't wrong. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

He frowned, and then breathed in again, filling his nostrils with the musky scent of wolf. He raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged. "They say I'm a werewolf, but I've never changed. I think they made a mistake."

She sounded so hopeful that he hated to disillusion her. But there was no mistake. She was just uninitiated. Shit. There went half his fun. "You're a wolf," he said. "You've just never shifted." But perhaps she wanted to change. Maybe he could help her there. "Do you want to?"

"Are you crazy? My inability to turn doggy for them is the one thing that keeps me going in here." She cast him a narrow eyed look. "You say I'm a wolf like you know what you're talking about. Do you know why I don't change?"

"Does it matter? If you don't want to, it's best you don't know."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, then clamped her lips closed and nodded. She glanced away, then back again. "Are you sure? That I'm a wolf, I mean?"

He nodded. "You must have been attacked."

"Eight years ago. Afterward, I woke up here." She wrapped her arms around her middle. "They've been trying to make me shift ever since."

Jesus, she'd only been thirteen. He wondered if Sebastian was aware there was a werewolf going around attacking children on his turf. "Trying how?" he asked.

"Different things. But nothing works." She glanced away. "They're not very pleased with me."

Obviously, they didn't know what was needed. Thank God. Jack made a vow then that he wouldn't reveal it, even to her. "So you're also a telepath?"

"I suppose."

Clearly, something else she wasn't happy to talk about. "What's your name?"

"Tasha."

"I'm Jack. Come here, Tasha."

She glanced from him to the camera high on the wall.

"It's broken," he said. Something else he'd convinced them was down to his vampiric powers—he didn't like to be watched.

Her gaze flicked back to him, and he allowed his hunger to show. Her eyes widened, but she took the final step toward him. He slid his hands down her arms, then scooped her up and crossed to the small cot. Sinking down with her in his lap, he silently cursed his erection, which refused to subside despite the fact that sex was now off the menu.

For a few seconds, she was rigid in his arms, every muscle tense.

Jack stroked her hair and she sighed, the stiffness seeping from her. Then as if giving in, she settled against him without comment, like a cat happy to be there, almost snuggling. He reckoned she hadn't been held much in her short life, and a fierce anger rose in him at the people who had kept here, shown her no kindness.

Her lashes flicked open and she stared up at him with those strange golden eyes. "Are you sure it won't hurt? You weren't lying? You know—lulling me into a false sense of security?"

"It won't hurt. You might even enjoy it."

She swallowed and took a deep breath. "Okay. Go ahead then." And she raised her chin, baring the long line of her throat.

He shifted her slightly so he could reach, then lapped at the pulse with his tongue. A shiver ran through her. Then he bit down. She went instantly still but didn't fight, and he relaxed and savored the sensation as the warm, sweet blood filled his mouth, and he tasted the magic in her.

Her body went soft and pliant in his arms. He glanced down. Her fists were clenched at her side, but her nipples were hard little points clearly visible and her hips lifted slightly as if straining toward him.

"Holy crap," she murmured. "You weren't lying."

# Chapter Two

"Get your paws off me, pervert."

Johnson let go of her as though she were something nasty and wiped his hands down the sides of his pants.

"You know, Johnson, if I was the sensitive sort, I'd think you didn't like me."

Johnson ignored the comment. All the guards hated her but especially Johnson. When Tasha had first arrived—before the shielding technology had been developed—she'd been able to read all their minds. And Johnson's was a cesspit. But obviously, he didn't want the rest of the world to know that, so he'd been just a little bit peeved when she'd shared a few of his more bizarre personal fantasies with the rest of the guards.

He was sick, but at least after that, she hadn't been part of his fantasies. Not his sexual ones anyway. Though there had been a few things he'd thought about doing to her.

She shuddered. She was glad she could no longer read their minds.

Johnson turned to go, but paused at the door. "Did it hurt?" His voice took on a gloating quality.

For a moment, she didn't know what he was referring to. Then she realized he meant the vampire. Her hand went to her throat where she could still feel the wound, though it was closing unnaturally fast.

God, but it had felt good.

Who would have believed it? Weird or what? She reckoned she must be one sad, repressed woman. And was it any wonder? She'd hardly led a normal life.

Johnson was still loitering, waiting for his answer. Probably looking for some details to add to his lurid torture fantasies.

Best not let him see she'd actually enjoyed being bitten by the vampire or he'd make sure she never went near Jack again. "What do you think?" she snarled. "Of course it hurt."

Well, at least that made Johnson happy.

"Maybe one day soon, they'll finally recognize what a waste of space you are and they'll let that monster suck you dry."

Charming. She supposed it wasn't bad for a parting comment, and she didn't bother trying to come up with a clever answer. She just wanted him gone.

Once he'd left, slamming the cell door behind him, Tasha collapsed on her narrow bed. She stared up at what had been her home for the last eight years.

Ten feet by ten feet.

Bare white walls.

The room was empty but for the cot and a single shelf with her meager pile of books. She only had those because a few years back she'd faked a couple of suicide attempts. They'd taken her to see a shrink and she'd persuaded the woman that she needed some mental stimulation or she would go seriously insane.

In truth, she hadn't wanted to die then. She still didn't. Most of the time. Occasionally, despair and loneliness would threaten to swamp her. Or they'd think of some new and generally unpleasant way to try and make her shift. But usually she managed to stay optimistic.

One day she would get out of here and go home. She had to believe it.

And now, at least she had something to look forward to.

Jack.

With his long, lithe body, pale skin, and silky black hair, Jack was, without doubt, the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She hugged her knees to her chest at the memory of the pleasure.

He'd told her it wouldn't hurt, and she'd been so shocked she'd given in without a fight. No one had ever said something wouldn't hurt before. And besides, he was so beautiful, she wasn't sure she could have denied him anything. Like some besotted teenager.

But he'd been right. There had been no pain, just a rhythmic tugging, that had pulled at unknown places deep within her body. His mouth at her throat had woken all sorts of sensations; she could still feel the pulse throbbing between her thighs.

But more than that; it had felt so good just to be held.

Yup. It was official. She was one sad case.

The cell door was in front of them. If she was going to make a move, it had to be now. Tasha cast a quick sideways glance Johnson. He was a foot taller than her and more than twice her weight.

Still, she took a deep breath, twisted out of his grasp, and launched herself at his throat. Moments later, she hung limp from one huge, meaty hand.

"Goddamn freak," Johnson snarled.

Tasha could see the loathing in his eyes as he raised his fist and punched her in the face. Lightning exploded in her brain, and her mouth flooded with the warm, coppery taste of blood. Wincing at the sharp stab of pain, she swallowed and licked her lip. Time to change tactics.

"Please," she begged. "Don't put me in there. Not with him. Not again."

He smirked as he unlocked the cell door. Tasha started to struggle, was still struggling as he thrust her into the dimly lit cell. She fell to her knees just inside the door.

"Dinner is served," Johnson announced. His sadistic laughter echoed in her ears as the lock clicked shut behind her.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the dark power saturating the room. After a moment, she opened them and peered into the darkness. A pair of emerald eyes glowed in the shadows.

"Is he gone?" she murmured.

"Yes," a soft voice answered, and the hairs rose on the back of her neck. She'd known Jack for over a month now, and he still had the same overwhelming effect on her.

She scrambled to her feet, rubbing her arm where Johnson's thick fingers had bitten into the flesh. Then she grinned. "I was good, wasn't I?"

"Maybe just a little over the top."

"Come on, Jack," she said as his tall figure materialized out of the shadows. "I have to be convincing. You know Johnson would never bring me here if he actually thought I wanted to come. He hates me."

Jack stared down at her, then reached out and stroked the blood from her lip with the pad of his thumb. Tasha's whole body quivered at the touch and she stared mesmerized as he raised it to his mouth and slowly licked it clean.

"Would you like me to kill him for you?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, I would. And, if possible, very, very, slowly." Then she sighed. "The problem is, Jack, you're as much a prisoner here as I am, so excuse me if I don't hold my breath."

He shrugged. "Then maybe, for the moment, you should try not to wind him up quite so much."

"You're right," Tasha agreed, "I know you're right. Unfortunately, winding up Johnson is just about the only fun I get to have in this place. Still, I should have been a bit more careful today."

"What's different about today?"

"There's a full moon tomorrow night." Tasha shivered. "They always try extra hard when there's a full moon."

He studied her for a moment. "Have you thought that things might be easier for you if you turned?"

"No, I haven't. And you're forgetting one important thing—I can't turn. I don't do this to annoy Johnson—that's just a happy side effect. The fact is I don't know how to turn. Most of the time, I'm not even convinced I am a werewolf."

He shook his head. "You are," he said. "I can taste it in your blood. Besides, even before the attack you were far from normal."

"Yeah, well, a girl can dream." She peered at him through her lashes. "You do know why I can't turn, don't you? I know you do."

"Why would you think that?"

"Come on, Jack, you know everything. Why won't you tell me?"

He was silent for a moment, and Tasha couldn't resist reaching out with her mind. She came up against the usual solid wall of his defenses and scowled.

Jack smiled, and she knew he'd sensed her attempt. Then he shrugged. "There is a..." he paused as if unsure of the right word to use, "a ritual which must be performed before you can come into your powers. But, Tasha, you know they've been using mind drugs on you, if you don't want to turn, you're better off not knowing. Now come here." He held out one hand to her. "I must feed before your friend Johnson comes back for you."

She went to him eagerly, sliding her fingers against the coolness of his palm and lifting her chin to tease him with the smooth flesh of her throat.

He laughed softly with a flash of fangs then pulled her to him, turned her, and backed her toward the small cot in one fluid move. As his fangs pierced her vein, she gave herself up to the sweet sensation of his mouth at her throat, the throbbing at her breasts, between her thighs, the heat pooling at the base of her belly.

Finally, he drew back, licking the last drops of blood from her throat, stroking his tongue across the wound to quicken the healing. He lay back with a sigh, pulling her close, holding her against his hard body. Tasha lay beside him, restless.

"Stop wriggling," he said.

"Why?"

"Because it's distracting, and I don't need it."

She wriggled some more, rubbing her small breasts across his chest, shivering at the delicious friction on her sensitive nipples. Jack lay still, but she knew he wasn't immune to her advances because she could feel his huge erection pressed against her stomach. She'd been thinking about this for weeks now. Some part of her suspected that she would never leave this place alive, and she wanted to experience as much as she could of life while she had the chance. So far, Jack wasn't assisting her plan.

"Jack, why won't you make love to me?"

He stared down at her, a frown on his face. "You're too young."

"I'm twenty-one and all grown up."

"Too immature, then."

"Well, duh! Even you'd be immature if you'd been stuck in this dump for the last eight years."

She looked at him, head tilted to one side. "You know, Jack, you could think of this as an opportunity to help me grow."

He continued to stare at her in that annoying, inscrutable manner.

"It's because I'm scrawny, isn't it?" she said, glancing down at her body. "You can tell me. I can take criticism. It's because I have small breasts and no hips, isn't it?"

His eyes roamed over her body. "You just need to eat a little more," he said. "You're actually quite beautiful."

"Yeah, of course I am. I guess that's why you can't keep your hands off me. Look," she said. "I promise I'll still respect you in the morning."

He laughed, and she scowled. Why wouldn't he just give in and do it? It wasn't as if it was going to hurt him. She was twenty-one, well over the age of consent. She was lying on a bed with the most gorgeous man she could ever imagine, and he refused to cooperate. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared him right in the face.

"You know, Jack," she said, injecting as much pathos into her voice as possible. "It's a full moon tomorrow night. I may not survive. I'll die a virgin, never knowing what a man feels like."

He stared back, his eyes half-closed and there was something she couldn't define in his expression.

"I won't take your virginity," he said.

She opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it again. He was telling her what he wouldn't do, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do anything. His eyes were hot on her, and her stomach muscles tightened with a shiver of anticipation.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered.

"What?"

"You heard me. You said you wanted this, so take them off."

Tasha scrambled to her feet. His face had gone blank, but beneath his half-closed lids, his green eyes gleamed. A flicker of nervousness ran through her. She yanked her T-shirt over her head, before he could change his mind, then kicked off her sweatpants to stand before him naked. She couldn't look at him but could feel his gaze running, like fire, over her body.

"Come here." He took her hand and tugged her to the bed, pulling her down alongside him. Tasha let him do whatever he wanted, her whole body trembling as he took her wrists in his large hands, stretched them upward, and wrapped her fingers around the bars at the head of the bed. "Hold on," he said.

The position thrust her small breasts upwards, and he trailed one long finger over them. A small smile played across his lips as her nipples sprang to instant hardness, straining up toward him. He teased her with his fingers, stroking light patterns over the underside of her breasts. The strangest sensations ran through her, sinking deep into her belly, and the flesh between her legs felt hot and swollen. She needed him to touch her there. Would he?

"Please, Jack," she whispered.

He heard her, his fingers moving to her stiff little nipples. He caught one between finger and thumb, twisting gently, tugging and pulling. She couldn't hold back a whimper of pleasure. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. She peered up through the haze of pleasure to find him watching her, a look of intense concentration on his face. He leaned over her, taking the other nipple between his lips. Electric shocks ran from her breasts to her groin, and her hips rose from the bed.

"Let go and I stop," he murmured against her breasts, and she tightened her grip on the bars.

He spread wet kisses over her skin as his fingers continued to play with her nipples, his teeth nipping her flesh, his fangs grazing the soft swell of her breasts. Then his head moved lower. He licked and kissed his way down over her flat belly, leaving a trail of fire. His tongue dipped into her navel then moved even lower. She needed something, and she pressed her thighs together, her hips coming off the bed at the sensations running through her.

"Open your legs, Tasha."

She let them fall apart and groaned when he moved so his head hovered above the parting of her thighs. She couldn't believe this was happening. She would die if he stopped. She might die if he continued. She didn't care. His breath ruffled the curls of her pubic hair, and she melted, moisture oozing from her. He was taking too long. "Jack!"

Her eyes fluttered closed at the first long, slow lick of his tongue and behind her closed lids, explosions of color burst in her mind. His tongue probed between the folds of her sex, tasting her, slipping inside her, and then gliding wetly up toward her clit. He stopped short, and she bucked against him. He repeated the movement, and she had to bite back a scream of frustration. His hands moved down, slid beneath her to cup her bottom, his thumbs sliding between her legs to part the lips of her sex so she lay open before him. He paused.

"Please, Jack." She moaned the words over and over, her hands still gripping onto the bars. At last, he touched her, teasing her tight little bud with the tip of his tongue. He stroked lightly across her, and she whimpered. Flames flashed through her, concentrating fire on that one small spot between her legs. He stroked harder, and she went mindless, her head rolling from side to side, her hips bucking against his firm hold. Then he sucked her clit into his mouth, bit down. Without warning, her climax exploded through her. He continued to suckle and waves of pleasure washed over her, dragging her under until she blacked out.

When she came to, Jack was lying beside her. She could feel his rhythmic movements. Letting go of the bars, she rolled onto her side. He was on his back, his pants open, his fist wrapped round his rock hard erection. It was beautiful, arching thick and powerful from a nest of midnight dark curls. Tasha couldn't look away as he thrust his rigid shaft into his own palm. His movements were fierce, and she reached out a trembling hand.

"Don't touch me," he growled.

She lowered her hand and watched, fascinated as he pleasured himself. He was huge, his large hand hardly covering his shaft. The skin was silky pale, the head, purple, swollen, already oozing. The heat rose again in her belly. She licked her lips, and heard him groan. Tearing her gaze away, she peered into his face; his eyes were jewel green slits, intent upon her as he thrust himself into his palm. Her body ached for his touch. Without conscious thought, her hand drifted across her breasts, still damp from his kisses.

"More," he said.

Instinct told her what he wanted. Emboldened, she played with a nipple, tugging it between her finger and thumb as he had done, and flames of fire licked through her. Her other hand drifted down, over her stomach, through her pubic hair. She was soft, wet. Opening her legs, she stroked a finger lightly over her swollen clit. It was still sensitive from her orgasm. She gasped, and moved her fingers lower to slide inside herself. Her flesh was hot, slippery with desire, and she moaned as she imagined Jack's huge cock thrusting inside her. She arched her hips, opening her legs wider, pushing another finger into her sopping slit. Jack swore, his movements becoming jerky, until his back arched and his seed shot from him. He collapsed back onto the bed.

A moment later, he rolled onto his side, and his hand brushed hers, one long finger sliding inside her. It felt far better than her own and she gasped as he thrust a second finger into her, while he stroked her to orgasm with the pad of his thumb.

She shuddered against him a second time and heard him chuckle.

He held her as her body trembled, then rolled onto his back and pulled her to him. Tasha relaxed. He was almost warm now from the blood he had taken, and she pressed closer, breathing in the male, musky scent of sex for the first time.

For a while, she was content, and it occurred to her, with a twinge of shock, that lying close to Jack like this was the only time she'd felt safe in long, long years. She wasn't sure what she was to Jack, maybe nothing more than food, but in the five weeks she'd known him, he had become everything to her—friend, confidant, ally. She wished she could somehow crawl inside his body and be safe forever.

But she knew it was a lie. There was no safety for her here.

Johnson would come for her soon, and tomorrow night they would hurt her. She could do nothing to stop them, and the fear shifted deep within her, clawing at her like a living thing.

She'd lied when she'd told Jack she was all grown up. Inside her remained the memory of the child she'd been eight years ago. The child who had woken in this awful place, crying for her mother, pleading with them to let her go, not to hurt her anymore. She'd soon learned the futility of that, but the need was still there, buried deep.

Or maybe not so deep.

Her face was wet, and she realized she was crying silently into Jack's shirt. She bit down hard on her lip, and blinked back the tears. Easing her hands between their bodies, she pushed herself up.

Jack's hold on her tightened. His hand reached up to stroke her face, his fingers hesitating as they encountered the dampness of her skin.

"Tasha, what's wrong?" he asked gently.

"Nothing," she muttered. "Johnson will be coming soon. I need to get ready."

She sat up, brushing his hands away. Jack appeared almost shocked, but she ignored him and scrambled off the bed. She pulled on her clothes, and sank to the floor by the cell door, hugging her knees to her chest.

***

Jack stared at the small figure huddled against the wall, her face hidden by a dark curtain of hair. She lifted her head and looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes as fast as she could blink them away. Watching her was like watching his world collapsing. She was always so strong, so brave, laughing off what they did to her in this evil place.

But what had her life really been like? He'd been here for just over seven weeks, and already he longed for freedom. A miasma of evil hung about The Facility.

What could it have been like being brought here as child? He longed to free her, take her away, but there was more at stake. He had a job to do, and he couldn't leave until he'd done it.

Despite the fact he'd just come, his balls ached, and his cock was rock hard again. He wished he could make love to her but he knew it wasn't an option if she didn't want to shift. It was her choice. He wouldn't take that from her. Instead, he'd given her what pleasure he could; he could still taste her on his lips. But now she was crying, and he didn't know what to do.

"I've never seen you cry before," he murmured.

She glanced at him, and scowled. "I thought I'd make it more realistic for Johnson. I'd hate for him to think I'd been enjoying myself in here.'

Jack rose from the cot and crossed the room to where she sat. He crouched in front of her, and rubbed one long, lean finger down her damp cheek. Then he lifted her chin. "What's wrong, Tasha?" he asked again.

She stared at him, golden eyes huge in her small face. "What's wrong?" she snarled and Jack almost smiled at the disbelief in her voice. "What's right would be easier to answer—absolutely nothing!" She shook her head, and stared at him through narrowed eyes. "Maybe," she said slowly, "it's that my only friend in the whole wide world is a vampire. And what am I to him? Food! Nothing but bloody dinner."

A shock ran through him at her words. "You're more than food."

"Oh, yeah? Just what am I to you, Jack?"

The question stopped him short. What was she to him? He admitted to a deep craving for her sweet blood. But it was far more than that. From the first moment they'd met, when she'd tried to probe his mind, he'd known she was special. But what did "special" mean? With a sense of surprise, he realized that in all his hundreds of years he'd never wanted a woman the way he wanted Tasha. But he also wanted to protect her, take her out of this place. His brain floundered. A vampire and a werewolf? He'd never heard of such a mating before. The two were natural enemies. Vampires loved were-blood. It was the sweetest and they took it by force when they could. But he'd never needed force with his little red wolf. She gave of herself freely. He stared down at her hunched figure, sensing her tension as she waited for his answer. He searched for a part of himself he could give to her.

"We're friends," he said.

She stared into his face, and he could see a softening in hers. She almost smiled, but then her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Best friends?" she asked.

Jack smiled. "Of course."

He glanced up, listening.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Your guard's coming."

He stood up and slid into the shadows at the back of the cell. Her eyes never left him until the door opened, and she was taken away.

# Chapter Three

Jack!

Jack sat up abruptly, the echo of a scream filling his mind.

He jumped to his feet. Instinct sending him to the door, but he could see nothing out of the small window. He cursed loudly.

What the hell were they doing to her? She'd said they tried to make her shift? What had she meant by that?

The scream came again and he banged on the door, though he knew the action was futile. No one would hear him. Closing his eyes, he concentrated hard. His men had orders to stay close by, just in case things went bad. They weren't telepathic like Tasha, but they would sense him.

Come.

He hadn't found out all he'd wanted to in his time here, but they would just have to take the computer hard drives and hope they could pull the information from them.

He didn't care. He had to get her out of here.

If she was still alive.

The screams had died away. The silence was much worse.

***

Tasha pulled her knees tighter to her chest, whimpering at the pain that ripped through her naked body. The skin of her breasts and belly was on fire where they'd burned her, her wrists and ankles raw from fighting against the restraints. She'd bitten through her lower lip and her mouth was tainted with the sharp metallic taste of her own blood. She swallowed and tried to hold back the tears threatening to overwhelm her. Crying. Twice in two days. She was in trouble.

They always tried extra hard during the full moon. Trying to make her lose control, force her to change. It never did any good, and they were getting desperate and vicious in their desperation. Whatever ritual Jack had spoken of, her jailors knew nothing of it. And Jack had been right not to tell her. Tonight, she would have done anything to make them stop, told them anything.

For the first time, she wished for an end to all the pain. It would have been better if she had died in the attack and never come to this place. For years, only the thought of one day seeing her family again had kept her going. Now, the certainty gripped her—she would never get out of this place alive, never go home.

She closed her eyes and thought of Jack, but she couldn't see his face anymore. She'd called out to him at some point during the long night, begged him to help her. He'd been there in her mind, and she knew he'd heard her. But how could Jack help? He was as much a prisoner as she was.

Soft footsteps came to a halt outside her cell, and Tasha couldn't hold back the whimper that trickled from her swollen lips. They couldn't be coming back; it was too soon. She couldn't take any more. Not yet. The beam of a flashlight shone through the peephole in the door.

"It's not Jack. It's a girl," a man's voice said, a stranger's voice.

"Leave her," a second man answered.

The light disappeared, and the footsteps carried on down the corridor. Overwhelmed by a wave of relief, Tasha slumped back onto the hard table. She wondered vaguely who they were, but she was finding it difficult to focus her thoughts.

Passing in and out of consciousness, Tasha was in a half-dream state when the door opened. A tall figure stood, framed in the dim light of the corridor.

Jack.

Had he heard her and come? Or was he just part of her dream?

"Jack," she whispered as he crossed the room toward her.

He stood over her, staring down, his eyes fierce.

"Who did this?" he snarled.

Tasha resisted the urge to curl her naked body into a ball. "It looks worse than it is," she said, struggling to sit up.

He shook his head. "I didn't know." He reached out to touch the livid burn marks on her body. "You always made light of what they did. You should have told me."

"Why? What could you have done?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but, at that moment, a man entered the cell behind him and he turned away from her. "Have we got everything?" Jack asked. "The computer hard drives?"

"Yes, and the place is wired and ready to blow."

"Then let's get out of here."

Despair flooded her mind. He was leaving her. She sank back onto the cold metal of the table. Her eyes closed, only to blink open a moment later as Jack's strong arms slid beneath her, picked her up and cradled her against his chest. She stared up at him and their eyes locked, intense emotion passing between them. Then a third figure appeared in the doorway, breaking the link. He was dragging someone with him.

"Jack, we've got one of the guards and he's alive. Should we take him for questioning?"

It was Johnson, his piggy eyes blank with terror. Tasha hissed, and Jack swung back around to face her, his expression fierce. "He did this?"

Tasha nodded.

"Shall I kill him for you?"

Tasha stared at the guard. Did she hate him enough to see him die?

Oh, yeah.

She nodded.

Jack smiled. "My only regret is we can't take longer to do it. Seth." He waved a hand at the man holding Johnson. Seth grinned with a flash of fangs, and Tasha realized for the first time that Jack's rescuers were vampires.

Seth pulled Johnson to him and grasped his hair, jerking back his head to expose the line of his neck. He lunged, ripping his throat out in one swift move. Johnson squealed, flailed with his hands, and went still.

Seth tossed him away and spat. "Tastes like shit."

Jack stared down at the body, a small frown on his face. "Tasha," he said, "the implant that stops you from reading the guards, do you know where it is?"

"Behind his left ear. I saw the scars when they had the operations."

Seth drew a long, wicked-looking blade from sheath at his thigh and crouched over the body. He probed for a moment.

"Found it." He held up a small silver plate.

"Keep it safe," Jack said. "Now, let's get out of here."

He strode out, the other man falling in behind him.

Tasha wriggled in his arms. "I can walk."

"No you can't. Not fast enough anyway. Besides I want to carry you."

They emerged into the night. Jack paused and took a deep breath; Tasha did the same. The air was crisp, cold, and clean. As they stood in the darkness, the full moon appeared from behind the clouds, and deep within her something stirred to life. It tugged at her consciousness, filling her with a longing to run free through the night, under the moon. She twisted in Jack's hold. "Put me down."

He stared down into her face. "You feel the pull of the full moon?"

"I don't know." She wriggled again. "Please."

His grip tightened for a moment, and then he lowered her to her feet. She wobbled, stiffened her spine, and sniffed the air. "Am I really out of there?"

"Yes."

She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill, and then glanced up. There were more people out here, surrounding her, staring at her. Vampires, from the way the hunger gleamed in their eyes. For the first time, Tasha became aware she was naked. She peered up at Jack.

"I'm not wearing anything," she whispered.

He laughed softly.

"It's not funny."

"No, it's definitely not funny," he agreed, his expression hot and hungry. But he unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged out of it, and offered it to her.

Tasha stared, her mouth falling open. She couldn't help it. He was so beautiful—long and lean, with the smooth swell of muscles under silken skin. All gilded by moonlight.

"Tasha," he murmured, and she could still hear the faint laughter in his voice. "Take the shirt."

She nodded, took the shirt, and put it on. When she glanced up from fastening the buttons, everybody was still watching her.

"They're still staring," she said tugging the shirt down over her legs.

"That's because you're beautiful," Jack replied. "Besides, they can smell your blood and vampires love were-blood." He smiled down at her. "But don't worry; they've all fed well tonight."

"Jack, your ride's here," Seth said from behind them.

A dark SUV pulled up close, and Jack opened the back door. "Get in," he said to Tasha.

"Why?" she asked. "Where are we going?"

Suddenly, she was terrified. She hated this place, but it was all she'd known for the past eight years. Now a vampire was telling her to get into a van and go God knows where.

She couldn't move.

Jack frowned down at her. "I'll tell you when we're on our way, but we need to leave. This whole place is going to blow any moment."

When she remained frozen in place, he reached over, picked her up, and placed her in the back of the van. He leaped up behind her, and closed the doors as the van pulled away. Jack's arms came around her, and he turned her so she could see out of the back window.

"Watch," he said.

A moment later, the night exploded in huge fireball, and a wave of heat radiated through the glass. Tasha sat back, felt Jack's strong arms around her as she watched eight years of misery disappear in flames and darkness.

# Chapter Four

"Where are we going?" Tasha asked.

"Where do you want to go?"

An overwhelming longing filled her. "I want to go home."

"Is that wise?"

"Probably not. They told me my mom died in a car crash five years ago, and my dad thinks I'm dead. I'd hate to give him a heart attack." She sighed. "I don't know where to go." Tasha went silent then, not daring to put her hopes into words.

"You can't come with me," Jack said.

"Why?"

He just shook his head and Tasha trembled, the chill of his rejection running through her. Jack pulled her to him, rubbed her arms until the shivers stopped, then wrapped his own around her. She laid her head on his naked chest and forced herself to relax. "You feel cool," she said.

"I need to feed."

"You didn't feed back there?"

"No. These days, I prefer my food to be willing."

"Oh."

He turned her face up to the light, and ran hand over her lips. "You're almost healed."

"I told you I heal fast."

"Yes," Jack said, "it's one of the side effects of being a were."

"What are the others?"

He didn't answer, just contemplated her question for a while. After a minute, he pulled a phone out of his pants pocket. He pressed a button and spoke into it. "Seth, take us to Sebastian's."

"Who's Sebastian?" Tasha asked.

"He's the head of the Lykae—the local werewolf pack."

Tasha shuddered. "You are aware that my last meeting with a werewolf didn't turn out too well." That had to be the understatement of the century; the attack still haunted her nightmares. "I don't want to go," she said in a small voice.

"He'll teach you what you need to know. They look after their own."

"I'm not sure I want to be his. Besides, what if he doesn't want me? And like I said before, I'm not even convinced I am a werewolf—maybe it didn't take or something."

"You are."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Sebastian will be able to explain everything you need to know. It's for the best until you find out what happened and why."

She had to try one last time. "Take me with you."

"No."

She fell silent. She wasn't going to beg. He must have sensed something though because he tightened his hold. "In a lot of ways, you're still a child," he said. "You've been shut away for so long. Give yourself a chance to know this new world before you make any decisions as to where you want to go. Now we'll be arriving soon. Give me your throat."

He shifted her on his lap, lifting her with ease and turning her so she faced him, her knees spread on either side of his lean hips. In this position, she could stare down into his face—see the fierce hunger in his eyes. His hands went to her hips, lowering her onto him. He leaned in close and she raised her chin, baring the long line of her throat. The sharpness of his fangs grazed her skin and then he was feeding. Her mind floated away, sinking into the sensations. The tugging at her throat caused a deep rhythmic throbbing between her open thighs. She was acutely aware of her bare sex pressed to the rough texture of his pants, of the hardening length of his erection, and a sudden wetness flooded her core. She wriggled, parting the lips of her sex, rubbing her tiny swollen bud over him, whimpering at the delicious friction. Jack went still. His hands tightened on her hips and then he guided her, pressed her down onto the solid length of him, rotating her hips in small teasing circles. As her climax mounted, he pulled her down harder, grinding her to him, so her clit rubbed against his shaft and finally, she exploded.

When she raised her lashes, he'd stopped feeding.

He was watching her through heavy-lidded eyes. His cock was still rock hard, and she shifted just to hear him moan. Then his eyes narrowed further. "Why the hell not?" he said more to himself than her.

His hand slid between their bodies to fondle her bare slippery flesh still sensitive from her orgasm, and a shiver ran through her. With his other hand, he unbuttoned his pants, and pushed the zip down. Tasha stayed motionless. Was he finally going to make love to her fully? Why now, she wondered, when he had refused before?

His erection had sprung free, and Tasha couldn't resist a glance down. It was beautiful. Moist heat welled from her as she thought of all that male power, pushing into her, filling her. She swallowed as he raised her up, parting the lips of her sex with skilled fingers, opening her for his penetration.

A loud banging echoed through the van, and Jack went still. His head fell back, and she could see him fighting for control.

"Shit," he muttered.

The SUV was no longer moving.

Jack lifted her, placed her on the seat beside him, and adjusted his clothing. She didn't have much to adjust. A moment later, the door opened.

"We're here, boss," Seth said. "Actually, we've been here for five minutes. I thought you'd gone to sleep in there."

Jack swore softly. He stepped down, then reached into the van, picked her up and placed her on the ground. She stumbled, her legs weak and shaky.

They'd parked in the drive of a huge house. It was set in a thick, wooded area with a high, stone wall running around the entire perimeter. In the distance, a wolf howled. Tasha shivered and moved closer to Jack.

"I wish I had more clothes on."

"Sebastian will find you something."

"What if he doesn't want me around?"

"I told you they look after their own. Besides, you're beautiful. Believe me, he'll want you." He frowned as if he wasn't entirely happy with the thought then took her arm. "Come on. Let's get the introductions over. And Tasha..."

"Yes?"

"You must promise no mind reading unless you're asked."

She nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Sebastian may seem very laid-back, but he isn't. So when we meet him, try to keep that smart mouth shut."

She opened her mouth to say something smart, but he'd already moved off. She took a step after him and then winced as the gravel dug into her bare feet. Jack glanced around, came back and picked her up, then carried her toward the enormous front door. It swung open as they approached.

Jack took her across the wide hallway and through another door before putting her on her feet. She peered around. They were in a large, comfortable sitting room, with dark red walls, huge leather sofas, and a fire crackling in the grate.

The room was empty, but at that moment the front door slammed shut and a few seconds later a man entered the room bringing with him the fresh scent of the forest. He paused at the sight of Jack, his eyes wary. At least six foot tall, he was dressed in a pair of faded jeans that hung low on his lean hips. And nothing else. Sweat gleamed on the vast expanse of golden skin and rippling muscle. Wicked blue eyes flicked between the two of them and pale blond hair fell over his forehead, framing the face of a dissipated angel. Tasha's skin prickled as the levels of energy in the room mounted.

"Sebastian," Jack said. "Did we get you out of bed?"

Sebastian snorted. "Funny. Do you know what night this is, vampire? You call me in from the full moon. I thought you weren't supposed to break out until next week. What happened?"

"We had to move the plan ahead."

There was a plan? Tasha glanced at him as she realized he had truly saved her tonight. He'd heard her cry for help, and he'd done what he could.

"So how did it go?" Sebastian asked. "Did you get the information we needed?"

"Not entirely, but we have the hard drives. I'll get my people on it. The names we need are in there somewhere."

"Good."

Sebastian turned toward Tasha, and she found she couldn't look away. A slow smile curved his lips as he strode toward them, moving with the grace of a jungle cat. He halted less than a foot away. Tasha stood slightly behind Jack. Now he tugged her forward so she hovered in front of the werewolf. This close she could smell him clearly; forest and a faint musky odor of wild animal. The same scent that haunted her nightmares.

His eyes ran over her, lingering over the length of leg shown beneath the hem of the black silk shirt. He whistled under his breath. Tasha was suddenly aware of her bare legs and feet. She was standing in a room with two of the most gorgeous men imaginable and she was very nearly naked. Not that they were wearing much more, a fact that did nothing to cool the heat flushing her skin. Curling her toes into the soft carpet, she forced herself to stand her ground and just hoped she didn't look as hot as she felt.

"So," Sebastian said. "You've brought me a present. Nice, very nice."

"I've brought you one of your own," Jack replied. "This is Natasha. Natasha, this is Sebastian, the head of the Lykae."

"Hmm, a little red wolf. Where did you find her?"

"Tasha has been an unwilling guest of The Facility for the past eight years."

Sebastian stepped closer. She could see him breathe in, scenting the air. "She smells of sex." He raised one hand. Tasha flinched but forced herself to stand still as he ran a finger down the line of her throat, over the slight scar left from Jack's feeding. A frown twisted his lips. "And you fed the vampire."

She glanced uneasily at Jack. Was that a problem?

Jack shrugged. "I was a little hungry at the time."

They were silent for a moment. Would the wolf refuse to keep her? She almost hoped so. Jack would have to take her with him then. Even vampires must have rules about abandoning their best friends.

"Tasha was attacked by a werewolf eight years ago," Jack said. "When she woke, she was in The Facility. She's been there ever since."

"She must have been a child," Sebastian said.

"Thirteen."

"She was uninitiated?"

"She still is."

"Really?" Sebastian smiled, his eyes gleaming down at her.

"I brought her here for her protection," Jack said.

Tasha glanced at him; she was missing something here.

Sebastian turned his attention from her to Jack. "I do what I will with my own pack."

"You won't force her."

"Do you really think I'll need to use force?" Sebastian held out a hand to her. "Come, sweetheart."

Tasha peered over her shoulder at Jack. He caught her gaze and shrugged so she stayed where she was and ignored the outstretched hand. Sebastian pursed his lips, but the hand dropped to his side.

"There's something else you need to know," Jack said

"What?"

"You need to find the wolf who attacked her and find out why. I'm sure Tasha can help."

Sebastian frowned. "She can?" He definitely sounded skeptical. Obviously, she hadn't made much of an impression. She hated being little.

"Didn't I mention? Tasha is also a telepath."

Sebastian looked at her, his eyes sharp, his lips drawn back in a snarl. "Are you reading me now?"

"No," Tasha stammered.

"Probably just as well," Jack said from beside her.

Sebastian was still frowning.

"I don't normally," she said. "At The Facility, they taught me how to control it, focus it, only use it when I need to." She paused, then bit her lip. "I don't like to know what people are thinking. Most of the time it's not particularly nice."

Sebastian nodded, but he didn't appear happy. It was like The Facility all over again. She was a freak; she would never escape that stigma.

Jack shifted beside her. "I have to go. It will soon be dawn."

She started to stretch her hand out toward him, but let it to fall to her side. "Will I see you again?"

"Of course. I told you, I'll look into your family, find out what's happening." He turned to Sebastian. "I'll be in touch when we've analyzed those hard drives. Keep her safe. And Sebastian, they weren't particularly kind to her at The Facility. Give her time."

Then he was gone, and Tasha stood alone with the werewolf. Jack had been the only person kind to her in over eight years, and he'd left her, just like that. She blinked away the tears before turning back to Sebastian.

He'd taken a seat by the fire and was watching her, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It isn't done, you know."

"What isn't?" she asked.

"Feeding vampires. It's frowned upon in our society."

"Even if it's a matter of life and death?"

"If Jack told you that, then he was taking you for a ride."

Tasha frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Jack's old, very old, which means he's strong. He can go a long time between feeding. It's the reason he volunteered to go into The Facility. No, if he fed from you, it's because he wanted to." His eyes slid over her. "Not that I blame him."

"I didn't know."

"Besides," Sebastian continued. "Vampires are morose bastards, temperamental as hell. You'd be much better off with a wolf."

"I don't want anyone. I just want to go home."

"We'll see." He patted the seat next to him. "Come and sit by the fire while we decide what's to be done with you. Are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry."

"Hmm, you look half-starved. So, you'll need food and clothes. But maybe first a drink?"

He rose and crossed the room to a small cabinet. He poured her a drink and brought it over. She glanced into his face as she took a sip and saw his almost rueful smile. Then her mind blurred and she fell into a deep sleep.

# Chapter Five

The bastard had drugged her.

Her head throbbed, or was it someone banging on the door? A bit of both, she decided. Tasha forced her lids open. The room was in half-light, sunshine filtering through the heavy curtains.

A bedroom. A nice one, with high ceilings and pale yellow walls, but then her standards weren't very high. Most places seemed nice when you'd spent the last eight years in a ten foot by ten foot cell.

At least whoever it was had stopped banging. Instead, the handle turned and the door opened.

A man stood in the doorway.

Tall, dark and angry. She didn't need to read his mind to know the anger bit. Rage poured off him in waves, though his handsome face was expressionless. He was examining her, his eyes blank and she had no clue what he was thinking—except they obviously weren't happy thoughts. Was it her? She was used to meeting with distrust, but she'd hoped here would be different, that at least they'd give her the benefit of the doubt. Or maybe he was angry with everyone, not just her.

"You're awake," he said.

As he stepped into the room, Tasha peered under the sheet. She was still dressed in the black shirt—not much, but better than nothing.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was as blank as his expression. He could at least have said hello, introduced himself and made the effort to sound as if he cared.

"That bastard drugged me."

Her teeth ground together at the memory. She'd thought she was escaping from all that, but perhaps she'd just exchanged one prison for another. And how dare Jack leave her with the sort of person who would pretend to be nice, offer a drink, and then drug her.

"I know. He told me. So how do you feel?" He lifted the bag he carried and waved it in her direction. "I'm a doctor."

She studied him. He didn't look like any doctor she had ever met. And his bedside manner sucked big time. Which was a pity, because the rest of him was stunning. Was it some sort of werewolf thing? You had to be gorgeous or it didn't take. Maybe that's why she didn't change—she wasn't good-looking enough. Or maybe your appearance changed once you shifted and you became stunning. She liked that idea much better. Perhaps she might even grow a little.

The doctor's black hair was overlong, as though he hadn't bothered to cut it in a while, his skin olive as though he came from somewhere warmer than here, and his eyes the color of bitter chocolate. He wore black jeans and a grey T-shirt stretched taut over wide shoulders. Breathing in she caught that same forest scent tinged with the musk she now recognized as wolf.

"You're a werewolf?" she asked.

He shrugged as if it didn't matter, but she could feel the tension radiating off him. "I'm a werewolf doctor. Now, how do you feel?"

She ignored the question, and pulled herself up and leaned back against the headboard. "So where's the slimy scumbag who drugged me?"

A smile flickered at his mouth. "Not here. He came in earlier, but you were still out cold. He asked me to check you over, see if there's anything wrong with you that we can treat."

"You mean apart from being a werewolf and a freak. Any cure for those?"

"Nope. The werewolf part at least. Not sure about the freak." He placed the bag on the bottom of the bed and sank down beside her.

"Did he tell you about me?"

"That you're supposed to be telepathic? Yes, he told me." He shrugged again. "Nothing secret on my head—go ahead and try."

A glimmer of curiosity showed in his face—yeah she was a medical phenomenon. She reached out, touched his mind, sensed the rage, the hatred of what he was, and then backed off quickly. "Ugh! No, thank you." She peered at him "Are you always this angry?"

Surprise flashed in his eyes. "Yes. Now let's examine you."

Tasha hated being examined. All the time at The Facility, she'd been prodded and poked like so much meat. Everything measured and recorded. But at least she was used to it, and she held herself still while he checked her heart beat, took her blood pressure, drew blood samples.

Finally, he packed everything away and rose to his feet.

"So will I live?" she asked.

"You'll live. A little underweight from the looks of you, but otherwise you're fine. I'll get someone to bring you food."

"Can't I come and get some myself?"

"No."

He turned and left the room and the lock clicked into place behind him.

Yeah, she was still a prisoner, just a different prison.

***

"How's Tasha?" Jack glanced up as Sebastian came into his office.

It was three days since he'd left her with Sebastian. He wanted to give her time to settle in before he went back there, but already he felt the pull of her sweet blood and his fangs ached to feed.

He'd kept busy trying to extract the information from the hard drives they'd taken. He was finally getting somewhere. He'd managed to isolate the financial transactions; soon he reckoned he'd be able to tell her something about how she came to be an unwilling guest of The Facility. Though so far, he'd run into a wall on the thing they really wanted to know—who ran The Agency.

A few decades back, Jack had come to the reluctant conclusion that the secrecy of his kind could not last forever. With the advances in technology, he believed it inevitable that man would stumble across them at some point in the not too distant future. Also, he'd lived long enough to know that if you didn't adapt—you died. So he'd formed a group, aimed at preparing for that day. Since then, they'd made contacts with government organizations, and they were often called in to help when something happened that might have a paranormal connection.

It was during one of these jobs, a few years back, that they'd first come across The Agency. And they'd been researching them ever since.

The organization was far larger than they'd first suspected. Huge, it spanned the whole globe, infiltrating governments and multinational companies. The Facility, where Tasha had been a prisoner, was only one tiny part of the whole. But they were secretive; Jack would find a lead only to have it come to a dead end. And The Agency was ruthless, quickly eliminating any part that was exposed.

Jack had also been investigating Tasha's family. Her mother had died as they'd told her. She'd been killed outright in a car crash five years ago, but something felt wrong about the whole thing. Could her mother have been looking into Tasha's disappearance and maybe actually found something? Had The Agency had her killed to keep her quiet? And what about her father? He was still alive and well. Had he accepted Tasha's disappearance?

And how did Tasha's telepathy fit into all this?

Was it pure coincidence? Jack didn't believe in coincidences. Did that mean Tasha had been targeted by The Agency because she was telepathic?

His head hurt—there were too many unknowns and until he'd unraveled them, Tasha was going nowhere near her family.

Sebastian grinned. "She's okay, I believe."

"You believe?" What the hell did that mean? Didn't he know?

"I've been keeping out of the way. I don't think I'm her favorite person right now."

Jack turned his chair and rose slowly to his feet. If the werewolf had harmed her in any way...

"Hey, keep your fangs in," Sebastian said. "I haven't done anything to her... yet. I just gave her a little something to help her sleep after you left the first night."

"You drugged her?" Jack could hear the outrage in his voice.

"Yeah, I drugged her. She's a telepath, and I know next to nothing about her except she's been cozying up to a vampire, and you picked her up at The Facility. Hardly glowing recommendations. For all you know she could also be a plant—working for The Agency. No way is she getting inside my head until I'm sure of where her loyalties lie."

"She's no plant."

"Maybe not, but let's be sure about that shall we?"

"They almost killed her. The night I took her out of there, she was nearly dead when I found her."

"Then she must have healed fast—there was no sign of any wounds when you brought her to me."

"She's powerful. I've never tasted so much magic in the blood. Not even you," he added. It wouldn't hurt to remind the werewolf that they had once fought and that Jack had won and taken the alpha's blood. Since then, they'd vacillated between an uneasy truce and the nearest thing Jack had come to friendship since he'd been changed. Though he knew the werewolf would always put his pack first—it's what made him such a good alpha.

"Piss off," Sebastian replied.

Jack bit back a smile and turned to the computer.

Sebastian leaned over his shoulder to read the screen. "Are you getting anywhere?"

"Yes. I want you to look at these transactions. They're from around the time Tasha was taken. See if you recognize any of the names."

Pushing his chair out of the way, he allowed Sebastian to step closer and scrutinize the screen. Jack curbed his impatience, but couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he wasn't going to like what they found. Something was wrong. The information didn't add up; they were missing a vital piece.

He knew he was going to ask Tasha to stay with him. While he didn't know if it could work out between a vampire and a werewolf, for the first time in his life, he was willing to try at a relationship. But he wanted to give her a decent choice when he made the offer. She'd dreamed of going home through the long years of her imprisonment. And he would give her the chance. But only when he was sure she would be safe.

Sebastian straightened and pointed at the screen. "Got him. Michael Oswald."

"A pack member?" Jack asked.

"No—he's a loner. He works as a freelance assassin. He must be our man."

"Let's go find him, then."

# Chapter Six

A finger glided over the bare flesh of her arm. Tasha shivered and turned slowly.

"Tasha," Sebastian said. "You look fantastic."

She glared at him. It had been four days since he'd drugged her and she still wasn't about to forgive him. Not that he'd given her much opportunity. This was the first she'd seen of him since the night she'd arrived.

In fact, she'd hardly seen anyone. A woman had brought her meals at regular intervals, but she'd obviously been warned not to talk to her. Tasha felt like some sort of pariah, which didn't improve her grouchy mood.

On the second day, the same woman had brought her a pile of parcels. Presents from Jack, clothes, a kindle loaded with books, chocolates—no doubt to fatten up her skinny frame. She would have rather had Jack, but the gifts soothed her a little. It was nice to know he hadn't completely forgotten her.

At first, she'd been content to spend her time eating and sleeping, regaining her strength. Then reading and watching TV, catching up on the last eight years. However, it wasn't long before impatience was gnawing at her. She was supposed to be free, wasn't she? She wanted to get out there and start living. She'd had enough of being caged. So that morning, she'd threatened to smash everything in the room unless they let her out or took her to Sebastian.

It had taken all day, but finally, here she was, back in the sitting room where they had first met.

Now she watched him through narrowed eyes as he circled, coming to a halt in front of her, a slow smile curving his lips. Tasha stared back and saw the smile slide away. Suspicion flickered across his face. "Are you reading me?" he asked.

"No."

"Could you?"

"I don't know," she said. "I can't read Jack, unless he lets me."

"Jack's a vamp. Nobody can read vamps." He studied her for a moment. "Can you control how far you go in? Top level only?"

She nodded.

"Okay, try then."

Tasha looked at him in surprise. "You want me to read you?"

"I want you to try." He stared at her, the challenge clear in his voice. "What am I thinking, Tasha?"

She reached out with her mind's eye, sensed the flavor of him, the wolf so close to the surface. She focused on his thoughts and took a step back as intense heat flooded her body. The picture in her head was so graphic, so carnal.

He laughed, but he didn't sound amused. "I guess that answers my question."

He walked away a few paces, giving Tasha a moment to compose herself. When he turned back, his expression was grim. "The pack isn't happy about having a telepath among us."

Despair washed over her; she would never belong. People would always see her as different—a freak as Johnson had enjoyed calling her. "I won't use it. I told you—I don't like to."

He shrugged off her concerns. "Don't worry. I'll sort it out, but it will be better once you've committed to the pack. Once you've run with us, they'll trust you. But for now, we need to decide what to do with you."

"I want to go home," she said.

"That may not be so simple." Sebastian turned away from her. "Jack?"

Tasha swung around as Jack glided out of the shadows at the edge of the room. She didn't try to hide her delight, and Sebastian shook his head in disgust.

Jack was dressed all in black with a holster strapped at his shoulder and a knife strapped to his thigh. His black, silky hair was pulled back in a ponytail, emphasizing the pale beauty of his face, his sharp cheekbones, the long line of his jaw.

He looked dangerous and familiar, and she couldn't prevent herself from taking an involuntary step toward him. He didn't smile at her. He just looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her throat, then lower, over the soft peaks of her breasts. With a shiver of excitement, her nipples hardened against the thin silk top she wore. Her heart rate increased, and the blood throbbed in her veins.

"Come." Jack smiled. "Sit down."

"I don't need to sit down." She glanced into his face. "Do I?"

"You might as well be comfortable."

She sank into the chair he indicated. "So, why can't I go home?"

Jack sat in the chair opposite, and Sebastian took the seat beside him. "Let me explain a little first," Jack said. "Do you know what The Facility was?"

Tasha frowned. "They told me it was a government organization, research into the paranormal."

Jack shook his head. "They weren't government."

"How do you know?"

"Because we were sent in by the government to find out what was going on there."

"You work for the government, both of you?"

"Let's just say we're sub-contractors." He sat back, searching her face. "Tasha, what do you know of your father's work?"

"Not a lot. I was only thirteen," she said. "I know he was a scientist. He worked for some sort of government organization, but he never spoke about it." She forced herself to concentrate, to think back to the time before she was attacked.

"I did pick up bits and pieces out of his mind, nothing that made any sense." She paused and glanced at Sebastian. "I couldn't control it at first," she explained. "The mind-reading. I'd go up to people and I'd be there, in their heads." She shuddered. "It was horrible. In the end, I told Dad. He said he knew someone who could help me."

"Did he tell you who?" Jack asked. "Or mention any names at all?"

Tasha shook her head. "No, but I suppose he might have worked in the same field himself. Anyway, he was going to organize a meeting, but I was attacked the very next day when I went to meet him." She shrugged. "That's it." She glanced from one to the other, trying to stop the fluttering in her stomach. "Why do you want to know all this? What's it got to do with my father?"

Jack looked at Sebastian, nodded, and then got up and paced the room.

"We found the wolf who attacked you," Sebastian said.

A scalding flood of fear washed over her. Bile rose to the back of her throat, and she swallowed.

"His name is Michael Oswald," Sebastian continued. "We want you to question him."

"Me? How? Why?" She didn't want to go anywhere near him, and she certainly didn't want to get inside his head.

"He's not talking. We need to know who paid him."

"Paid him? Why would you think that?"

Sebastian smiled wryly. "Contrary to popular opinion, we don't make it a habit to attack humans at random. On the other hand, it's not unheard of for weres to act as paid assassins. We don't object as long as it doesn't bring attention to our kind. So, can you do it?"

Suddenly, Tasha longed to be back in her nice yellow bedroom, with her head in a book, or watching TV. She didn't want to confront the creature who had caused all of this misery and confusion in her life—the creature from her nightmares.

"We need to find out why this happened to you," Jack said. "Until we do, there's no going back."

She nodded. "I'll do it," she said, fighting to subdue her fear. "At least I'll try."

"Good." Jack took out a phone and spoke quietly into it, then sat and waited. "So," he said, after a moment's silence. "What was Sebastian thinking?"

At his words, Tasha glanced up. "What?" she asked.

"Sebastian. What was he thinking when you read his mind?"

Tasha flicked a glance at Sebastian, who smiled. She couldn't look away, and her mind was flooded again with the image of that long, golden body poised naked over her own, the sinful expression in his hot blue eyes. She stared down at her hands as heat rose to her cheeks. "Er, nothing important," she mumbled.

Jack raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened behind them. They all turned as two men came in, leading a third, shackled between them, a silver collar around his throat.

Tasha recognized the two guards as the vampires who'd been with Jack the night of their escape, but she didn't recognize the prisoner. He'd been in wolf form the night he attacked her, and she found she could look at him after all.

Compared to the others in the room, he was short, stocky, with cold blue eyes and shaggy, blond hair. He was shooting wary glances at Jack and Sebastian but hardly seemed to notice her.

The two guards dragged him to a chair, fastened his handcuffs to the arm, and stepped back. He looked up, defiance flashing in his eyes. "Why am I here?"

Jack rose to his feet and stalked toward him. He stood, staring down, and the man's insolent glare faltered. "What's a vampire doing here?" he asked.

Jack ignored the comment. "You remember a job you did eight years ago?" he said.

The man frowned. "I've done lots of jobs."

"This one should be quite memorable. You were employed to kill a thirteen-year-old girl."

"So?"

Jack's fist moved faster than Tasha's eyes could follow and blood oozed crimson from the man's nose. "Do you remember?"

"Yes." His reply was sullen yet still defiant.

"What happened at the hit?" Jack asked.

The man's eyes flashed around the room. For the first time, he appeared nervous. "I killed her," he said.

"Is that all?" Jack asked, and he nodded. Jack turned to her. "Tasha?"

She stood up and shuffled forward to stare down at the thing that had haunted her dreams for so long. He stared back, something stirring to life behind his eyes.

"Who's she?" he asked but Tasha could hear the recognition in his voice.

"Well, I'm certainly not a ghost." She thought for a moment. "Why did you attack me?"

When he didn't respond, she reached out with her mind and plucked the answer with ease. "He did it for the money," she told the others. "He was paid to kill me."

She turned back to him. "So why didn't I die? Why did you leave me alive?"

"What are you?" he asked. His glance shifted to Sebastian, and this time, real fear showed in his face. Tasha ignored his question and searched deeper.

"He was paid by somebody else," she said. "They knew about the telepathy, and they wanted me, but they also wanted a live werewolf. They found a way to get both. He attacked me and sold me to The Facility."

Sebastian hissed, and she glanced at him. "We have few rules," he said. "But the most sacred is we never give information to humans. We do not sell out our own kind. It's the only reason we've remained secret for so long."

"Does he know the name of his contact at The Facility?" Jack asked.

"Yes, it's Dr. Latham. You met him. He was in charge of my case."

"What about the man who paid him to kill you?"

"I don't know." She concentrated on Oswald, and saw a picture inside his head—a man handing over money. She tried to deny what she was seeing, but it was impossible. "Why?" she whispered.

"Tasha?"

She glanced up to find Jack staring at her with understanding in his eyes.

"You knew," she said bleakly.

"I suspected."

"My father paid to have me attacked?"

"No, he paid to have you killed."

"But why? And how did you know?"

"We don't know why yet, but we found his name in certain records."

"That's why you made me question him, isn't it? It wasn't because he wouldn't answer. You just knew I wouldn't believe unless I saw it for myself."

Her world was falling apart around her. She stood alone and abandoned in the ruins, searching for some sort of explanation. Her father would never have harmed her. But the truth sank in, and she dropped into a chair, her legs refusing to hold her any longer.

She couldn't go home. Even if there was an explanation, she couldn't go home until she knew what it was.

"What do we do with him?" Jack said to Sebastian.

Oswald looked up, fear in his eyes.

"You know what you've done is punishable by death." Sebastian shook his head in disgust. "Take him away. Do what you like with him."

Seth grinned and dragged the man from the room.

A shiver fluttered down Tasha's spine. "What will they do to him?"

Jack looked at her thoughtfully, and then shrugged. "I like my blood given freely. Seth prefers to take his."

She shivered again, suddenly cold, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "So what's next?"

Jack came over and crouched down in front of her. "You could forget about all this. Forget about your family. Let others deal with it."

"I can't. You don't understand—my father is all I have."

Sebastian moved to stand besides Jack. "You have the pack now. They are your family. You're one of us."

She jumped up. "But I'm not! For years, everyone has told me I'm a werewolf, but I've never turned. Why? If I'm one of you, why don't I turn?"

Jack went over to the side table and poured himself a drink. He swallowed it in one gulp and poured himself another.

"Can't you just tell me?" she asked.

Jack glanced over at Sebastian, who shrugged.

"Sex," Sebastian said.

"What?"

"You're a virgin. When you have sex, you will turn."

She stared at the werewolf, unsure whether to believe him.

"Normally, it happens soon after the attack," Sebastian continued. "We don't, as a rule, change children, and once our blood is in your veins, your own blood flows hot."

"Mine didn't," she said. She could have added that at least it hadn't until she met Jack.

"Probably your age and incarceration affected you. That will change."

She had a sudden flashback to the image of Sebastian's lean, taut body poised above her own. Her muscles clenched. She closed her eyes for a brief moment before striding over to where Jack stood.

She took the glass from his hand and swallowed the drink down. "Right," she said. "So, am I correct in thinking if I never have sex, then I'll never turn. Never become a proper werewolf. I can live a normal life?"

"In theory," Sebastian replied. "But it won't work out like that. You'll give in."

"Oh, I think I can manage to hold back."

Sebastian shook his head. "You'll feel the pull of the full moon. Besides Tasha, it's a gift, not a curse."

"Yeah, I met your doctor friend—he really sees it as a gift."

"Connor is an exception and there are reasons. But only a small number of those attacked, survive. You were lucky."

"I'll try to remember that," she said, not even attempting to keep the sarcasm from her voice. Then she had a thought. "The sex, does it have to be with another werewolf?" She avoided looking at Jack as she asked this, but saw Sebastian's gaze turn sharply to the vampire.

"No," he said. "Any sex will do. Now, I must go speak to the pack, explain why I gave one of our own to the vampires. They won't be happy."

He left the room and Tasha forced herself to turn and face Jack. "Is that why you wouldn't have sex with me in The Facility?"

He nodded. "I knew you had no wish to perform for your captors."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I told you why. Do you think you would have liked the consequences if your jailors had discovered that little piece of information?"

An image of Johnson's clammy hands flashed through her mind and Tasha shuddered in revulsion.

"Besides," Jack continued. "It wasn't my place. Pack law needs to be taught by the pack. We do not interfere with others' laws. That's why Oswald had to die. He sold pack secrets to outsiders."

"You're not an outsider."

"I'm not pack. Sebastian and I work together, often for a common cause, but we are different. Tasha, if you accept pack law, you have a place here, a family. They will protect you."

"Better than my first one did?" she asked, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice. "I can't believe my father wanted me dead. Why, Jack? What's wrong with me?"

Jack reached out and pulled her into his arms, holding her close to the long length of his body.

Every inch of him imprinted onto her skin, and for brief moment, she allowed herself to relax.

"Nothing," he said. His hands slid down her arms and glided up over her body, tangling in her long red hair. He tilted her head back and looked down into her eyes. "Absolutely nothing," he whispered the words into her mouth, kissing her cheek, slanting her head back further to lick at the soft flesh of her neck. The scrape of his fangs sent a shiver of pleasure through her.

"Do you know how much I wanted to take you?" he asked. "How hard I was each time I fed?"

He backed her up until the edge of the table was pressing at the small of her back. His large hands came up to cup her face and he kissed her again, this time on the mouth. He nipped at her lower lip until she opened to him, and his tongue pushed into her, hot and wet, as his hips thrust his rock hard erection against her.

A scalding heat flooded her body, and she gasped into his mouth. She'd wanted this for so long. The kiss hardened, a sharp nick, and the copper taste of fresh blood filled her mouth. Jack groaned and ground his hips harder into her. He slid one hand down over the sweep of her hipbone and between their bodies. His palm cupped her through the denim, and liquid heat flowed from her. He pressed upwards. She moaned and rubbed herself against his hand.

Jack lifted her onto the edge of the table, still kissing her mouth. He spread her legs, pressing his hardness where his hand had been, rocking against the very core of her. The zipper of her jeans slid down, and his hand pushed inside. One finger slid into her slick, slippery wetness. Tasha's head fell back as pleasure flooded her body. A whimper escaped her lips, and she was drowning in exquisite pleasure. She never wanted it to stop—she needed more.

"Not on the table, Jack," a voice said from behind them.

Jack went still above her.

"You know," Sebastian continued, "I really would have expected a little more finesse from somebody with your experience."

Jack withdrew his mouth from hers, licking a last drop of blood from her lips. He looked down at her, his eyes a little rueful as he removed his hand from between her legs. She bit back a whimper of loss and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, Sebastian was leaning in the open doorway, a watchful expression on his face. "Perhaps," he said, with a sharpness in his voice that she didn't quite understand. "You should tell her we don't feed vamps, at least not voluntarily. Ditto for fucking them."

Jack took a step away, and Tasha had to fight the urge to reach out and hold on to him. "That's pack lore," he said to Sebastian. "Not vampire lore."

"Great, just great," Tasha said, pulling up the zip on her jeans. "So this is my new family, huh? What is he, my father?"

Jack smiled. "I doubt that's the position he has in mind." He sighed. "It's probably for the best. You need to think about what you want. In the meantime, I'll find out what I can about your father."

As the door closed behind him, Tasha had a desperate urge to call him back, but he was right. She needed to come to terms with all she'd learned before making any decisions. Sex was off-limits until she decided whether she wanted to join the pack for real, or try for a normal life. She couldn't believe she'd let Jack go so far when minutes earlier she'd stated she was quite capable of saying no, if that's what it took to remain human. Still, she couldn't help gazing longingly at the closed door.

"It really isn't done, you know," Sebastian said almost gently.

She glanced at him. "What isn't?" she asked her thoughts still on Jack.

"Sex with a vampire." Sebastian poured them both a drink. "It's not drugged," he said when she hesitated. "We have accepted you as one of us now. But Tasha, it would be much easier for you if you truly became one of us. Sleep with me tonight and run with the pack afterward." He ran his hand down her arm, and her skin tingled under the touch.

"I promise you you'll enjoy both experiences."

Gazing up at him, she realized he was as beautiful as Jack, in his own way. She could do what he asked and let him deal with everything. But she knew she wouldn't. Her body still throbbed from Jack's touch.

It was Jack she wanted.

But first, she had to confront her father and find out what had happened. There must be some explanation for what he'd done, some way she could still go home.

"I can't," she said. "At least, not yet."

He sighed and let go of her arm. "Then sit with me for a while. You must have questions."

She sank into the chair behind her and took the drink from his outstretched hand. She waited until he was sitting comfortably.

"So," she asked. "Do vampires really sleep in coffins?"

Sebastian shook his head in disgust. "You're obsessed," he said. "Obsessed with a bloodsucking leech."

Tasha smiled. She hadn't expected an answer, but hadn't been able to resist the temptation to wind him up. Obviously, the habit hadn't died with Johnson. Sebastian's eyes narrowed on her smile.

"So," she said quickly. "Tell me all about werewolves."

# Chapter Seven

Acres of thick woodland surrounded the house, enclosed by a six foot wall circling the entire perimeter. Tasha had spent the day meandering through pathways not made by human feet, breathing in the scent of growing things. It felt so good to be outside, to be free.

She knew there were wolves around her; she could sense their presence, smell their feral odor. But the thought didn't frighten her. Even without the full moon, Tasha felt the pull of the night and a part of her longed to break free. She knew she had to make a decision—had to decide whether she wanted to be a real werewolf. She'd been thinking over the things Sebastian had told her the night before. He'd made the whole werewolf thing sound breathtaking, wild and exhilarating, and deep down, Tasha knew what her decision would be. Still, she needed to face her father first, find out what had happened all those years ago.

She stayed in the forest long after night had fallen only returning to the house as the sickle moon rose above the trees. Jack lounged on the veranda, one shoulder against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He studied her closely as she climbed the steps toward him. "Have you decided?"

She nodded. "I have to see my father."

"I thought you would. We're meeting him tonight."

She bit her lip. "Does he know I'm alive?"

"He knows nothing. We approached him through official channels. He believes he's coming to a budget meeting."

The door behind them slammed, and she looked across to see Sebastian. "I'm coming with you," he said.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"We protect our own," Sebastian said.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "She's not yours yet," he growled.

Sebastian smiled. "Did you come out without any supper tonight?" He turned to Tasha. "Vampires tend to get a little bad tempered on an empty stomach."

"I've fed," Jack snarled.

Tasha glared at him. Who had he fed on? She bit back the question.

"Good," Sebastian replied. "I wouldn't want you distracted."

Sebastian drove them into the city. Jack sat beside him in the front with Tasha in the back. No one spoke, and she was glad of the silence to try and make sense of her thoughts. She was going to see her father after so many years. She should have been happy, excited. Instead, she couldn't dislodge the cold hard dread that had settled in her stomach.

The streets of London flashed past almost unnoticed and eventually they arrived in the underground parking garage of a huge office block. She followed Jack and Sebastian through the silent building. Once out of the elevator, Jack turned to her. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

She peered up into his face, but his expression was blank. "I don't think I have an option," she replied.

"Of course you have an option," Sebastian said. "You can let us deal with it for you."

"What exactly does 'deal with it' involve?"

"We kill the bastard," Sebastian growled. "Hell, do you want him to live after what he did to you?"

"We don't actually know what he did or why," Tasha said.

"Tasha," Sebastian said. "The evidence is overwhelming. This can't turn out well for you. Let us sort it all out."

But she blocked the words out. There had to be a reason—she wouldn't allow herself to consider the alternative.

After a minute, Jack sighed. "Okay, come on." He led her through the dark corridors.

"What is this place?" Tasha asked.

"Just an office building. My company owns it."

"Your company?"

He smiled. "Vampires need to work too, you know."

Beside him, Sebastian snorted. "Don't you believe it; they're all lazy bastards, sleeping all day."

A light shone from the open doorway of an office. Tasha's heart slowed as they approached. Jack squeezed her arm and then pushed open the door, and Tasha found herself in a huge, ultra-modern office, all black leather and stainless steel. Three men stood by the desk. Jack nodded, and two of the men left the room, leaving the third standing alone.

Tasha took a step forward, but Jack put a warning hand on her arm. She stared at her father.

He'd hardly changed in eight years and a wave of longing washed over her. This was the father she remembered from her childhood. She shook off Jack's hand, but could feel him and Sebastian taking up positions on either side of her. She didn't need to be telepathic to sense the menace radiating from them.

Her father was staring back at her now, a slight frown of recognition on his face.

"Dad," she said.

The frown disappeared. It was replaced fleetingly by alarm, which he quickly covered, leaving his expression blank. "Natasha?" He stepped toward them, his movements jerky as though he was in shock, and Jack and Sebastian shifted a little closer. "My God, Natasha, is that you? I thought you were dead." The words were forced, but Tasha could sense the truth in them. "What happened?" he asked.

"That's what we're here to find out," Sebastian said from behind her.

Her father's eyes shifted past her to rest fleetingly on each of her two bodyguards. "Who are you?" he asked. "I was told I was meeting the finance team about budget changes to my program."

"Instead," Sebastian said. "You're meeting with us about why you paid a werewolf to murder your own daughter."

"A werewolf? What are you talking about?"

"We have his confession. You'd be dead already but your daughter seems to want to give you the benefit of the doubt. We don't. You have five minutes to explain before you die."

Her father turned toward her. "Natasha, please I would never..."

Tasha closed her eyes and reached out with her mind. And met with a complete blank. She opened her eyes and looked into his, and all of a sudden, she knew there wasn't going to be a happy ending. "Why, Dad?"

"Natasha, I don't know what these people are talking about. I'm overwhelmed you're here, that you're not dead."

"He's lying, Tasha," Sebastian growled in her ear. "Read him, and let's get this over with."

"I can't," she said.

"What do you mean, 'can't'?"

"He's shielded, like the guards at The Facility."

"Then perhaps we need to use a more conventional means of persuasion." Sebastian took a step toward the other man. "Do you know what we are?"

"You look like mercs."

"Mercs?" Tasha asked.

"He means mercenaries, paid killers," Jack said. "Don't you, Dr. Grant?" He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, which remained as cold as polar ice. "Oh, we're killers all right, and sometimes for money, but you can be very sure, that right at this moment, I would happily kill you—just for fun." He flashed the tip of one fang, and Tasha's father took a step back. "You know what I am," Jack continued. "But then my companion here is something else entirely."

Sebastian reached out one arm, and Tasha watched in fascination as the fingers turned into claws. She gasped. She had lived with this talk of werewolves for so long she'd stopped thinking about what it actually meant. Would she be able to change like that?

"With a little practice," Sebastian drawled in her ear. "Sleep with me tonight, and you'll see for yourself." She glanced at his face in surprise, and he laughed. "I don't need to be a mind reader to know what you were thinking," he said.

She turned to her father. He was backed up against the wall, fear and revulsion on his face.

"I don't understand, Natasha. How did you come to be with these..." He hesitated. "...people? I thought you were dead."

"It seems your paid assassin got greedy," Jack said. "Saw a chance at some extra cash and sold her."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I saw you, Dad. I read the man you paid."

"You can do that? You have that much control?" He rubbed at the spot behind his left ear.

Sebastian's eyes narrowed at the movement. "Jack, you've been studying the implant you got from the guard. Can you remove it?"

"Not here," Jack replied. "At least not without killing him."

"Well," Sebastian said. "Killing him would be my choice, but I doubt it would improve our chances of getting information. What about using some of your persuasive vampire skills?"

Jack shrugged. "Might work. On the other hand, with the implant it's just as likely to blow his brain. We don't know enough about them yet. Tasha, do you want to try first?"

"Why, Dad?" Tasha asked again. "How could you do that to your own daughter?"

He glanced away for a moment. When he looked back, his eyes were cold. "I could do it," he said. "Because you're not my daughter."

"What do you mean? Who am I?"

"You're a laboratory experiment, in vitro fertilization, DNA modification. You were grown in a test tube."

"But why?"

"We were researching telepathy. We wanted to increase strength. Your genetic parents were mild telepaths. We had managed to identify the gene that gave them their talent, and then we modified it. Once you were born, it was decided you would be grown in a home environment as near normal as possible."

Tasha's head was about to explode. She was finding it difficult to take in. "What about my mother? Did she know all this?"

"Of course she did. And she wasn't your mother. But she loved you. She knew nothing about the—" he paused, and glanced from Jack to Sebastian "—other."

"You mean about you paying a werewolf to kill me."

"I didn't know he was a werewolf. And, no, your mother loved you. She was devastated when you disappeared. Heartbroken."

"So why did you do it?"

"I was under orders. There'd been problems with the others."

"Others?"

"You were one of a batch."

"I have sisters and brothers?"

An expression of distaste crossed his features. "If you can call them that. Anyway, most of those brought up on the outside have been eliminated."

"On the outside?"

"In home environments like yourself."

"But why were they killed?"

"They became telepathic. We were told to look for certain signs."

"But I don't understand. Isn't that what you were trying for?"

"Yes, but at the time, we hadn't developed the shielding technology. What we were doing was confidential, and the handlers thought it was best not to be exposed. We had plenty of samples still in the labs. It was either eliminate you, or lock you up for life."

"So you were doing them a kindness," Sebastian said. "How sweet."

Tasha rubbed the spot between her eyes. "So you bred telepaths and then killed them so they couldn't read your minds?" She shook her head in disgust.

"The orders came from the very top. I argued, but Frank insisted."

"Frank?" Tasha asked.

"Frank Latham, my boss at the unit. Anyway, Frank said some of the others hadn't been able to cope, had gone crazy—we couldn't risk leaving you on the outside. He put me in touch with a man called Oswald. I didn't know he was a werewolf. Back then, we weren't even sure they existed. It was supposed to be quick. You weren't supposed to suffer. And you have to understand, I'd always known it was a possibility."

"Did you ever love me? At all?"

"I never allowed myself to love you."

Tasha closed her eyes to shut him out. She couldn't bear to look at him anymore. Her whole life had been a lie. She'd spent eight years yearning to return to a family, which had never been hers to begin with. A father who had never loved her, who had arranged to have her murdered. She shivered, and Jack's hands slid over her shoulders, pulled her back to rest against him. She realized how hard she'd been holding on to the hope that somehow it was all a mistake, that there was some explanation for what she'd seen in Oswald's head. As she started to shake, Jack's hold on her tightened.

"So, can we kill him now?" Sebastian murmured, his eyes cold and steady.

Her father was staring at them. "I'm a scientist. I just did my job. I followed orders. Natasha, you have to listen to me." He took a deep breath. "Natasha, please, let me talk to you alone."

She shook her head, pressed herself back into Jack.

"For your mother's sake. She loved us both—she wouldn't want this."

Tasha needed time to let it all sink in. She didn't know if she was ready to stand by and see her father die. Even if he wasn't actually her father.

"Let him go," she said, and saw the tension drain from him.

"He tried to have you killed," Sebastian said.

"Please, I don't think I can stand much more of this. Just let him go."

Sebastian shook his head in disgust, but then nodded in resignation. "Don't presume this is over," he said to her father before taking him by the arm. "I'll see this piece of shit off the premises. Then I need to get back to the house."

He paused in front of Jack and Tasha, and then leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "Remember, you have a family now. You can forget this scum. Look after her," he said to Jack.

"Natasha," her father said. "I need to talk to you. There are things you need to know. Here..." He reached into his pocket and handed her a card as Sebastian dragged him past. "Call me, please."

The door closed behind them. To Tasha, it was like saying goodbye, not only to her old life, but also to all her dreams. Yet, she had no choice—her old life had been a lie. She had to look forward. She had a chance at a new life now, with the pack.

She pulled herself out of Jack's embrace and turned to face him. He smiled, shrugged out of his jacket, and tossed it on the back of the black leather couch. Next, he unbuckled the shoulder holster, laid it on top of the jacket, and then crossed the room to a cabinet and poured them both a drink.

He took a seat on the couch. His long legs stretched out in front of him and stared at her through half-closed eyes. A ripple of excitement shot through her. He patted the seat next to him. "Come and sit for a moment."

She sat down and took the drink he offered but put it on the table untouched. "What is this place?" she asked. "Do you work here?"

"I own the building. We use it as headquarters."

"Headquarters of what?"

"We're a small group who believe the time of living in secrecy is coming to an end. We keep an eye on the interactions between our kind and humans. We also do contract work, often for the government."

"What sort of contract work?"

"It wasn't an accident or a coincidence that I was at The Facility. We'd been watching them for a while. One of my men had gotten too close and been taken. He died. He was young, not strong, and he couldn't withstand the hunger. Or maybe they killed him just to see if they could." He shrugged. "So I went in."

"Weren't you in danger?"

"No, I'm older, stronger."

"How old?"

"A few hundred years. Old enough, anyway."

Tasha closed her eyes and tried to imagine living so long. No wonder he thought of her as a child. When she opened her eyes, Jack was regarding her intently.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Numb," she said. "All the way here, no, even before that, ever since the meeting with Oswald, I've been trying to fool myself into believing there's an explanation, that my father didn't actually pay someone to kill me. Okay, so he's not my father, as it turns out, and I can't decide whether that makes it better or worse. It's as if my whole existence is a lie. You know, through the last eight years, all I could think about was getting back to my family. Now it doesn't even exist."

She reached over, picked up her drink, and took a sip. "Ugh! What is this?"

"Fifty-year-old scotch," Jack said wryly.

She put it down.

"Sebastian was right, you know," Jack said. "You have a family now. You belong with the pack. And there's a job for you here, if and when you want it."

"A job? Doing what?"

"We could always find use for a telepath, and we already have a number of wolves on the team."

She thought about it. "My father was shielded. That must mean they're still working with telepaths. There may be others like me out there."

"We'll look into it. You can help if you decide to work with us."

She sat back, closing her eyes. There was a place for her, a job. She wasn't alone; she had friends. She would join the pack truly become one of them. She opened her eyes and glanced at Jack, her heart beating stronger at the thought.

"You know, you should have let Sebastian kill him," Jack said. "I don't trust him not to come after you again. You need to be able to protect yourself better. Once you make the transition you'll be stronger, faster, you'll heal even quicker. You'll be almost impossible to kill."

"I know. I'd already decided to join the pack."

"You had?"

She nodded. "So there's something I need to do."

# Chapter Eight

Tasha nibbled on her lower lip. She didn't know what she would do if Jack rejected her now, but she had to take the risk. "Jack, will you make love to me?"

He smiled. "I'd already decided to do that, but you needed to make the decision yourself. But let's be clear here, you'll be different. It won't be easy to overcome the stigma that goes with having a vampire lover."

"I don't care. I'll always be different anyway."

"Good."

They were silent for a moment. Tasha glanced sideways at Jack. She'd wanted this for so long, but now she was scared. "I don't know what to do."

"I do," Jack said. "Get up."

She frowned but rose to her feet and stared down at him. He appeared relaxed, almost indolent as he sprawled on the sofa, his head back against the cushions, long legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes gleamed emerald through the thick curtain of his lashes, never leaving her.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered and her skin quivered with anticipation.

"Ooh, I love it when you go all masterful on me."

Jack shook his head. "Just take off your clothes, Natasha."

Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. She unbuttoned her shirt, her fingers clumsy, her whole body trembling with expectation. She slipped out of the shirt then unfastened her jeans and slid them down her legs. She kicked off her shoes and stood for a moment in her underwear. Jack said nothing. He continued to watch her as she removed the rest, until finally, she stood before him naked.

"Come here," he said.

She forced her legs to move and went to stand in front of him. His eyes glittered as they moved over her bare flesh, making her skin tingle. The feeling intensified on the tips of her breasts, between her legs, cramping the muscles of her stomach, and she swayed toward him.

He reached out and caressed the soft skin of her belly, down over her hip, slipping between her legs to stroke her inner thigh where the blood thundered so close to the surface. She was melting from the inside out, but she had to ask one thing before they went any further.

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"You're not just doing this because you feel sorry for me, are you?"

He laughed softly.

"What's funny?" she asked.

"Stop thinking so hard."

She wished she could. She really did. "Make me," she challenged.

He stared at her, allowing the mask to drop so she glimpsed the fierce predatory beauty beneath, and something close to fear unfurled deep within her. He reached out and pulled her to him, so she fell across his legs. He leaned down and kissed her savagely. His lips were brutal; his tongue thrusting hot and wet, into her mouth, his whole body hard against her own. It was minutes before she came up for air, panting. "Jack?"

He sighed. "Yes?"

"I feel strange. This whole wolf thing, it's not going to happen right now, is it?"

"No, not quite yet."

"Good, because I'd hate to try to eat you."

He laughed again. "Feel free," he murmured, leaning down and licking slowly across her breast, biting gently on the swollen tip. "Because I definitely plan to eat you."

He lifted her effortlessly, turning her so she lay on her back beneath him. "Do you know how long I've wanted this?" he asked, pressing his body into hers. "What you did to me in that cell, rubbing your sweet little body against mine? Teasing me. Begging me to take you."

He stood up then and stripped off his shirt, swiftly followed by the rest of his clothes, and Tasha stared. "Wow," she said, mesmerized by the sheer size and beauty of him, the evidence that he really did want her.

He grasped her knees and parted her legs, coming down to kneel between them. "This isn't going to be slow or gentle," he warned as he reached down and touched her between her thighs. He parted her drenched flesh, opening her to him, his nostrils flaring. One long finger pushed inside, and her inner muscles clenched around him. He withdrew his finger slowly, spreading the moisture over the tight little nub, already engorged with need. He rubbed over it repeatedly with the pad of his thumb until she was writhing against him. When her hips bucked uncontrollably, he withdrew.

He sat back and regarded her for what seemed an age, then slowly clasped his hand around his erection. Tasha followed the movement and stared at him in awe. He was long and hard, the skin silky pale, stretched, the head darker, swollen with the same need she was drowning in. He leaned toward her, positioning himself. She closed her eyes as he nudged at the opening to her body. He paused, and then thrust into her, sheathing himself in one skillful move. Tasha cried out in shock; he was huge, scorching hot, filling her completely. She lay still for a moment, as her body grew accustomed to his. His large hands slid beneath her to cup the backs of her thighs and pull her closer to him. Her head fell back, and he came down over her, his mouth at her throat.

She flinched at the sharp, quick stab as his fangs pierced her skin. Then gasped, but he gave her no time to think as he started to move inside her, almost leisurely at first, withdrawing, and then pushing into her with a slow grinding sweetness. She bucked under him, needing more, and he increased the tempo until all she could do was wrap her legs around him, dig her nails into the satin skin of his shoulders, and hold on as he drove them both higher and higher. She writhed and twisted, wanting more, but unsure as to what it was she needed.

He went still, eased his fangs from her throat, and rose above her. Her blood stained his lips, his black hair was loose around his shoulders, his green eyes fierce as he stared down into her face. And suddenly, she knew what it was she wanted. She wanted all of him, his body and his mind. She reached out with her inner sense and crashed straight into the wall of his mental defenses.

"Please, Jack," she whispered. "I love you. Let me in."

Something flickered behind his eyes, then the wall melted, and she was deep in his mind. He started to move again, his eyes never leaving hers, and, through the link joining them, she shared his exquisite pleasure. It echoed her own, with each thrust of his hard body. And beneath the pleasure, she could sense the love he felt for her, and how close he was to complete surrender. She sank into the sensations, rising up to meet each stroke, the feeling building within them until finally, when she thought they could take no more, he went rigid above her, pressed once more, and they both exploded into a million pieces.

"Double wow," she said and heard his soft laughter as she faded into blackness.

"Tasha, wake up."

She ignored the words and snuggled closer, loving the feel of his hard body against her own. He nipped her earlobe between his teeth.

"Ouch," she said. "What was that for?"

"We need to get you back. The pack is waiting for you."

She sat up reluctantly. "You know, I'd sort of forgotten the whole werewolf thing. Is it really going to happen?"

"Yes, and Sebastian said the sooner the better."

"You talked to Sebastian about this?"

"I wanted to be prepared."

She sighed. "Just one kiss then?"

When he didn't move, she leaned across and kissed the pale skin of his chest, licking her tongue across one hard nipple as she trailed her fingers over the ridged muscles of his belly, wrapped them around the hard, silken length of him. She leaned across him, breathed softly over the swollen head, and he jerked beneath her fingers.

He groaned, reached down, and pulled her up until they were face to face. "Just one kiss..." he replied.

Sometime later, she stirred uneasily.

"Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"I feel strange. I mean—really strange."

He glanced into her face. "Shit." He sat up and grabbed her hand. "Come on, we're out of here."

They were silent on the drive back to Sebastian's. Tasha sat tense beside him, fighting the trepidation building up within her.

"Relax," Jack said.

"I can't."

Prickles were running up and down her skin, and she rubbed her arms trying to ease the sensation. She could sense something alien stirring inside her, peering out from her eyes. Opening the window, she let the cool air soothe her.

The drive seemed to go on forever, but at last, Jack pulled up in front of the house. He came around and opened her door. "I can't come with you," he said as she got out. "But I'll see you tomorrow night. Good luck."

"Will I need it?"

He smiled. "No."

He pulled her to him, and gave her a lingering kiss on the lips, his tongue sliding over hers.

"Tomorrow night," he murmured.

The car disappeared down the drive. All around her, the night pulsated with expectation. Tasha couldn't see anyone, but she could sense them waiting for her. A wolf howled, and she followed the sound, walking slowly around the back of the house and into the dark woods. In a clearing, she found the pack, and at the center, Sebastian stood, still in human form. She walked forward, and the crowd parted for her, forming a circle around her and Sebastian.

He looked down at her and shook his head. "Been feeding the leech again?" Then he smiled and held out his hand. Tasha took it, and he drew her into the center of the circle. He released her hand and began to unbutton his shirt. "You don't need to undress, but the clothes vanish when we change. We find it easier to take them off."

She nodded and slowly removed her clothes.

Sebastian watched her, his eyes gleaming with appreciation, but she couldn't concentrate. A change was happening inside, making her body tremble.

"Relax," Sebastian murmured, "It only hurts if you fight it. Let it flow through you."

Her skin was too tight, stretched over her bones. The feeling was building and building until she raised her head to the sky and screamed. She fell to her knees, her fingers clawing at the wet earth, the wolf within her rising to the surface, demanding to be released.

Sebastian fell to his knees beside her. Then he was gone, and a huge silver wolf stood in his place.

She stopped fighting and felt herself shift—felt her wolf's leap for freedom—and a moment later, she stood on all fours, panting. She shook herself, turned her head to stare at the dark russet fur of her back, lifted one paw and sniffed the air. The night was rich with smells; the tang of the wet earth, the musky fragrance of the other wolves, and far away the scent of prey—the intoxicating odor of hot blood and warm flesh. Filled with a wild elation, she raised her head to the starlit sky and howled. All around her, the others joined her song.

The silver wolf was before her, pouncing playfully, swatting her nose. He nipped at her shoulder then turned and ran. And she followed, racing after him through the dark forest.

She woke the following morning in her own bed, naked. After a brief knock on the door, Sebastian entered. He was dressed in faded jeans and a dark blue shirt, which exactly matched his eyes. He sat down on the bed, his gaze searching her face. "How do you feel?"

"Fantastic. It was the best night of my life."

"Good. So, how was it with the leech?"

Tasha frowned. "Stop calling him that."

He grinned. "Are you defending him? God, it must be love. So how did it go?"

"How did what go?"

"You know..." Sebastian waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"Mind your own business."

"Hey, you can't blame me for being interested," he said. "Vampires are such secretive bastards."

"Well, I don't think he sleeps in a coffin if that helps."

He shook his head. "Just be careful. Don't let him overwhelm you." He ran his fingers almost absently over his throat. "I know what it's like."

"You? I thought you said you didn't feed vamps."

"Actually, what I said was, we don't voluntarily feed vamps." He shrugged. "When Jack first approached the pack, we fought. We fought. I lost. He fed. It was just the once, a dominance thing more than anything else. I'm only telling you because I know how good it can feel."

Tasha's eyes widened. "Did you and he—?"

"Have sex?" Sebastian finished the sentence for her. "Mind your own business. Anyway, it was a long time ago."

"How long?"

"Fifty years, give or take a few."

Tasha ran her eyes over him. He looked pretty good for someone who had to be at least seventy.

"So, are werewolves immortal?" she asked.

"No, but we are very long-lived. The truth is we tend to come to some sort of gruesome end long before we reach a natural death." He shrugged again. "Vampires tend to destroy themselves. We destroy each other. It's the nature of the beast."

"And humans, like my 'father,' what about them?"

"Oh, they destroy everything." He smiled. "Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were fine after last night. You did great by the way. Welcome to the family."

She lay in bed for a long time after he left. She'd told Sebastian the truth; it had been the most amazing night of her life, and she didn't want anything to spoil it. But she knew she had to talk to her father. She needed to know what he could tell her if she was to have any chance of moving on with her life.

Picking up the phone from beside the bed, she dialed the number.

# Chapter Nine

"She's gone," Sebastian said.

Shock hit Jack in the gut. Had something happened, something gone wrong when she'd shifted? "Gone? Gone where?"

"Don't worry—I've got people following her as you asked—she won't come to any harm."

"She'd better not." He should have expected this, should have never let her out of his sight, but he'd had no choice last night. She'd needed the other wolves when she shifted for the first time and they wouldn't have tolerated his presence.

"You have to let her do this," Sebastian said. "She'll never be free of him until she accepts what a bastard he is."

Jack knew Sebastian was right, but everything screamed at him to protect her from harm and her "father" was a double-crossing bastard. What sort of man could bring up a child, and then casually have her murdered. And Jack still wasn't convinced Tasha's mother's death had been an accident.

He'd keep that from her if he could.

Last night had been amazing, he'd felt her deep in his head, and he hadn't minded. Hell, he'd liked it. He couldn't hide anything from her, but the opposite was also true. She loved him.

"I'm going after her."

"I never expected anything else." Sebastian tossed him a cell phone. "My men are on speed dial."

***

Her father had promised to come alone.

Tasha watched from the shadows as he spoke to the two men who had accompanied him to the meeting place. A moment later, they disappeared into the darkness of the alley behind him.

It was a trap. She should have felt worse, but deep down, she'd expected nothing else. Still, it didn't prove everything he'd told her that morning was lies. Was she a danger to those she loved? Unless she found out, she could never be with Jack as she longed to be.

Something moved behind her. Every muscle tensed, and then relaxed as a hand stroked the hair from her neck, and a soft, slow kiss brushed against the flesh of her throat. At the slight scrape of fangs, her body quivered, heat pooling at her core. She pressed herself back against the hard length of him. After a moment, she stepped away and turned to face him.

"Jack," she said, "what are you doing here?"

"You were followed from the house. You were never alone. We guard our own."

"Am I yours?"

He leaned forward and kissed her again, this time on the lips. "Forever," he said. "Now, let's go. I'll deal with your father."

"No, Jack. I have to do this. I talked to him on the phone this morning. He said I was dangerous."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sweetheart, you're a telepath and a werewolf. People don't get much more dangerous than that." He smiled. "Except for vampires, of course."

She shook her head. "You don't understand. He said the others like me had gone crazy, been unable to control their powers. They'd killed innocent people, and I could do the same. I'm a danger to anyone I get close to."

"And you believe him?"

"No. Maybe." She sighed. "The truth is I'm not sure. But don't you see, unless I find out for certain, I can't be with you. I can't be with anyone. Besides, he also said he had information about my family—my real family. I have to know."

Jack looked down at her for a long moment, and then nodded. "Okay, but give me five minutes before you go out there."

He glided through the shadows, slipping into the alley behind her father.

She waited, peering into the darkness where Jack had disappeared. After a few minutes, she stepped forward. "Dad."

He jumped and then turned around to face her, a frown forming on his face.

"Dad," she urged when he remained silent. "Where's the information you promised?"

Her father glanced around to search behind him.

"I think he might be waiting for his friends," Jack said, stepping out of the shadows. "But I'm afraid they won't be joining you after all." He stared into the other man's eyes and raw power radiated from him. "Ask him, Tasha, he has to answer."

Her eyes darted to Jack's face. "Last night you said it was dangerous to use your powers on someone with an implant. That it could kill them."

Jack shrugged. "Does it matter?"

She looked at the man who had been her father, searching for some vestige of the love she'd once felt. "No, it doesn't matter. Am I dangerous?" she asked.

"No." The word was dragged from him.

"Then why did you lie?"

"I needed to get you away on your own—kill you."

A sense of relief washed through her at his words. It was over. At last, she could let him go. She just needed to know one more thing. "You said there were others like me. Was that a lie?"

"No. There are more."

"Where are they?"

"I don't know. Only Frank knew."

Tasha turned away in frustration.

"Have you heard enough?" Jack asked.

She nodded, and Jack released the man from his gaze.

For a second, he slumped against the wall. When he straightened, he held a gun pointed at Jack, but he was glaring at Tasha. "You should have died when you were supposed to."

Tasha focused on the gun, and the power grew within her. A soft growl trickled from her throat. Jack turned toward her, green eyes piercing the darkness between them.

"Tasha?" he warned.

But it was too late. The change was flowing through her, natural, perfect. One moment she stood before them—the next, she was leaping on all fours. Disbelief flashed in her father's eyes, followed by horror as she knocked the gun from his hand and tore into his throat in one fluid move. There was a moment of exhilaration as bone and cartilage crushed between her jaws, and the warm metallic taste of fresh blood filled her mouth. Life left him as she crouched above his body, and a faint cry of regret reverberated through her mind.

"Tasha, come."

She heard Jack's voice as though from a distance and peered up at the tall figure looming over her. She snarled softly.

"Tasha," he said again, and held out a hand. She sniffed at the outstretched fingers, and a wonderful feeling flooded her. Jack. The name whispered through her brain.

He looked at the body beneath her and smiled wryly. "And you wondered if you were dangerous," he mused before turning away.

Tasha glanced down once at the body of the man who had been her father, then leapt lightly off and trotted after the dark figure. She nudged his leg with her nose until he reached down and stroked her head.

"Come on," he said, his long fingers ruffling the soft fur on her neck. "Let's go home."

### The End

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# Preview Book 2

#### Sisters of the Moon Series

### (Book Two)

#### Bound to Moonlight

### by

#### Nina Croft

# Book 2 - Chapter One

Anya's finger tightened on the trigger.

The chill of the metal penetrated her skin, sending icy tendrils curling through her body. She waited for the cold to seep into her mind, to take her to that peaceful place. The place she always went when she had a job to do.

Tonight, peace remained elusive, and she shifted restlessly.

Dusk fell, and the last daylight faded into darkness. Anya lay on her belly, stretched out on the soft detritus of the forest floor, her sniper rifle resting on a rotting tree limb in front of her. Her nostrils filled with the scent of decay mixed with the musky smell of wild garlic crushed beneath her. Above her head, the breeze rustled the leaves in the tree canopy. Aside from that, the woods were silent. She reached out with her mind, but found no one within listening distance.

She was alone.

For a moment, she savored the feeling. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the rough bark of the tree limb. In the solitude of her mind, she finally acknowledged the truth that had been plaguing her for so long. She didn't want to do this anymore.

The sound of a door opening snapped her from her thoughts. She raised her head, her movements slow and careful and sighted down the length of the rifle. The scents and sounds of the forest faded around her as all her senses focused on the figure that emerged from the open door.

She recognized him immediately. Sebastian Quinn. Her target.

The man they'd told her was responsible for the death of her sister. The sister she had never known. Would now never know.

The shot would be easy from here. She'd expected him to be wary; after all, she'd captured three of his people over the past week. Instead, he appeared relaxed, standing on the steps in front of the house as though he were posing for her.

She studied him through the scope. She'd seen photographs, but they hadn't done him justice. Pale blond hair fell over his forehead, framing the face of a dissipated angel. His long, lean body was dressed in faded jeans and a dark blue shirt that perfectly matched his wicked blue eyes.

He raised his head and sniffed the air. His eyes narrowed, and he swung around, his gaze seeming to penetrate her hiding place.

He knew she was here.

Without conscious thought, she reached out to his mind and instantly froze. She probed again but slammed into an impenetrable barrier. He was shielded. Why hadn't the Agency told her? Did they even know?

For a brief moment, she considered taking the shot, but pushed the idea aside. The mission had been compromised. Besides, she would give away her location, and she'd bet he had people watching from the house.

Anya looked down the scope one last time. Across the distance, his eyes captured hers, and she blinked to break the contact.

Wriggling backward on her stomach, she stayed low until she reached the cover of the dense trees. She came up on her knees, glanced back over her shoulder, and knew that he had sensed her movement. He stared straight at the spot she'd been hidden, a fierce grin spreading across his face.

He spoke briefly into a cell phone then started to strip off his clothes.

What the hell was he doing?

She knelt transfixed as he tore off his shirt and tossed it to the ground. His skin was golden, sleek muscle over bone, broad shoulders, and lean almost concave belly. His hand went to the belt at his waist, and Anya scrambled to her feet and ran. She raced through the forest, weaving between the huge gnarled oak trees, her boots making no sound on the soft ground. Branches snatched at her clothes, scratching the exposed skin of her face, and still she ran.

In the distance, an owl hooted and a wolf howled. Anya lost her concentration, stumbling over an exposed root. She righted herself as a second wolf answered. Flinging herself behind a tree, she leaned against the rough bark. Panic flared, and she pushed it down, forced her breath to slow, concentrating her mind.

There were no wolves in England, not outside of a zoo anyway. They must be using hounds to track her, but they sounded far away. She had time. She just needed to make it to the wall surrounding the property, and she'd be free.

She opened her mind. There were no people close, and some of the tension drained from her. Stepping forward, she peered into the thick darkness between the trees, trying to orientate herself. She realized she still clutched the rifle in her hand. She hefted it across one shoulder and crept through the forest.

Five minutes later, she stood beside the tall wall that ran around the entire perimeter of the compound. She reached out to touch the rough stone, a sigh escaping her lungs. Now she was safe, she could admit how rattled she'd felt. The night had not gone well, and her handlers would not be pleased. But there would be another chance.

She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and whirled around. Too late. A huge, grey object slammed into her. Dropping the rifle, she crashed to the ground and rolled, her hand going instinctively to the pistol at her waist. She came straight back on her feet, the pistol gripped in her hand, adrenaline surging through her veins. And she stopped.

Wolves surrounded her. For a moment, her mind refused to accept what she saw. Her fingers clenched around the gun, searching for a target, but they were all around. Her eyes darted everywhere, hunting for an escape. She had a full clip in her gun. She could still get out of here.

A silver wolf stepped forward from the pack and padded toward her, tail held low, muzzle peeled back in a snarl that revealed razor sharp canines.

Raising her pistol, Anya stared into its face. In that instant, she recognized the flash of humanity in the dark blue eyes. Shock ripped through her, and she hesitated. She could have shot a man with ease, but not this wild, beautiful creature. She released her breath and lowered the pistol to her side in defeat.

Something hit her from the side. She fell back, her head cracked against the stone wall, and the darkness swallowed her.

# About the Author

Nina Croft grew up in the north of England. After training as an accountant, she spent four years working as a volunteer in Zambia, which left her with a love of the sun and a dislike of 9-5 work. She then spent a number of years mixing travel (whenever possible) with work (whenever necessary) but has now settled down to a life of writing and picking almonds on a remote farm in the mountains of southern Spain. Nina's writing mixes romance with elements of the paranormal and science fiction.

http://www.ninacroft.com
