Silence of the Wolves. Hannah Pole

her walk, her heavy jumper swaying with her hips, his memories of her tears, her sadness at night when she thought she was alone in her flat, hit him hard in the gut, sparking an instantaneous reaction. What the hell was that? Sympathy? No. Concern? Maybe.

      Whatever it was, it was a first; he’d never given a damn about anyone before and, gut reaction or not, that was never going to change.

      Nevertheless, in a strange, desperate moment of compassion, all he wanted to do was help her in some way; to comfort her perhaps. He actually reached out, his hand getting close enough to that silky black hair to stroke it. Before he knew what he was doing, she stopped him in his tracks as she whipped her head round, eyes searching the shadows with cold determination. Crap, he’d almost blown it.

      He slowly slid his nearly invisible form back against the wall, deeper into the shadows, and held his breath as he watched her scan the area again.

      Sure as hell, she knew someone was there, knew he was watching her. She crouched down and checked underneath the cars, behind the trees, and through the windows of surrounding houses before, slowly, jogging towards her building. Christ, that was close.

      ‘Get off me!’ Leyth’s keen hearing picked the sound with ease, though it was coming from almost a mile away. In a past life he might have gone to investigate; it was clearly a ‘damsel in distress’ and the alpha inside him bringing the other half of his soul roaring to the surface. But these days, that half was suppressed by the will of the council, constrained by duties and laws. Besides, he had other things to deal with.

      Glancing at Tamriel, he noted that her pace had slowed almost to a stop and she was listening closely. As she broke into a sprint, he realised that she’d also heard the female in distress, and was going to her aid. Running flat-out to keep up with her, he followed her through the streets of Folkestone, baffled by how keen her senses were, marvelling at how accurately she followed her ears.

      Finally, they reached a quiet road, off which there was an alleyway that led behind a large block of flats. The metallic scent of blood rode the air, stirring the beast at his core. Blood lust roared its way to the surface, making his mouth water. He thrust it back down, telling his instincts to put a muzzle on it. Now was not the time!

      He watched as Tam crept through the alleyway, slowly reaching the walled entrance to the small square of space between the two buildings. She paused, again listening intently.

      Crap, where did she get that knife from?

      His confusion took a back seat as she launched herself from the space she was crouched in, landing a kick on the man who was stood in the shadows of the buildings surrounding them. The force of it sent him smashing into a wall, cracking his leg as he went; Leyth heard the bone fracture as it hit the brick. Glancing over at the guy, he noted the faint scent of death that prickled his nose. It was a tuhrned.

      Cursing himself for not noticing the Circle’s minion, and his bad luck for the situation he’d landed in, Leyth shifted position, ready to kick the crap out of the zombiefied traitor but, as he did, Tamriel caught his attention.

      Fragile as she seemed, she was a picture of strength, ready for combat. As the guy launched at her, she dodged his blows with grace, only getting hit a couple of times and, when the tide turned, she attacked with deadly precision, catching him in all the right places. She definitely had her father’s blood in her veins.

      Finishing him off with an elbow to the back of the neck, the pale bastard fell to the floor in a heap. He wouldn’t stay that way though, tombs just didn’t stop; their corpse-like bodies could keep on going even after death.

      Pulling himself back to reality, Leyth considered doing Tamriel a favour and cutting the tomb’s head off, but since she had handled things well so far, Leyth decided to leave her to it; to see if she could look after herself alone.

      Best to stand back and see how this played out anyway. Maker only knew, he didn’t want her to find out he’d been following her. Yet.

      Praying her senses were still on alert, he watched her pull out her phone and call someone; he stepped back as the tomb got to its feet. The bastard didn’t even give her time to breathe as it kicked the phone from her hand and slammed her against the wall, crushing her throat. It was going to kill her.

      Moving swiftly forward, he was careful to stay in the shadows behind the tuhrned, keeping out of its line of sight, they would know he was there otherwise. He pulled on the bomber jacket the tomb was wearing, tugging it just hard enough for its grip to loosen, to give her a chance to grab at some air.

      She lashed out with her foot, cracking the tomb twice in the knee until bone cracked and shattered, sending the thing down to the ground.

      Leyth couldn’t help but grin; this female. She was as strong as her father had been; she was truly a picture of strength, through and through. And didn’t that just make it all the harder to do what he had to do?

      Goddamn, he had to take her. He had no choice but to snatch her out of the life she’d made for herself and turn it upside down. He was going to ruin her world and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

      Then he felt his stomach drop as he watched Tamriel collapse to the floor in a heap. Pulling his bolo out of his leg sheath, Leyth didn’t cast a second glance at the tuhrned, just swung the knife and cut its head clean off.

      As the tomb hit the dirt, Leyth touched the radio he wore clipped to his jacket.

      ‘I need a clean-up team in the alley behind the Marlowe flats on the Leas,’ he barked. ‘One dead tuhrned and one injured. Get here ASAP.’

      ‘Roger that, ETA two minutes.’ Carl’s gruff voice came back at him.

      For once, Leyth was glad to hear that raspy American baritone.

      ‘Cool, I’ve got to shoot, my man. Got something to deal with.’ Leyth quickly checked the pulse of the blonde pup; slow but steady, she would be fine.

      Hauling the now-unconscious Tamriel over his shoulder, he cursed. The heat bleeding out of her pores was burning his skin as it made contact with hers.

      Leyth called to the other half of his soul, the power at his very core, which happily came roaring to the surface, filling his veins with adrenaline and making his heart race. He would need the speed of the wild to get her back to mansion’s clinic in time.

      He raced back to his car, fear giving his feet wings, and sped the ten miles to the reserve in almost as many minutes. This female could not die on him.

      Not now. Not ever.

      Chapter Two

      BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

      Jesus Christ, what the hell was that noise? Tamriel flinched, dragging her hands up to cover her ears. Her skin felt raw, burnt almost, and her muscles screamed in protest. Her bones seemed to bend and creak in her skin as they moved. She gritted her teeth against the pain and tried to pull herself together. Argh, that beeping was deafening.

      Trying desperately to get a sense of where she was, Tam strained her ears, picking past the harsh mechanical beep, reaching for the sounds that lay beneath it. She could hear the hum of air-conditioning though, Lord only, they must have it on low; she felt like she was on fire, the heat scalding her skin even now. There was a buzz of electricity in the corner, and the pitter-patter of fingers on a keypad; someone must be typing on a computer. Other than that, the room she was in was completely silent.

      Tamriel inhaled deeply, trying to keep the movement of her chest expanding to a minimum; she didn’t feel scared and the room didn’t feel hostile but, hell, if she’d been kidnapped or something, she’d have to work out where she was or at least give herself a vague understanding of the situation she’d landed in before she alerted anyone to the fact that she was awake.

      Picking through the scents of the room, she found she was in a sort of medical room, she had to be. It smelt sterile, the metallic twang of stainless steel hit her senses like a slap