The werewolf interrupted her thoughts. “Don’t make the mistake of testing us, vampire. My patience is dwindling.” He said the word “vampire” with a sneer that would’ve offended her if she’d cared what anyone thought of her.
She reached down to her calf to grab the first knife, holstered under her fitted leather pants. The werewolf’s voice stopped her.
“
Slowly
,” he commanded.
She nodded, showing full cooperation. When she had the knife in her grasp, the familiar feel of cold metal on her skin, she flung it at the werewolf to her left, lodging it deep into his throat. Natalia leapt into the air avoiding the first of the arrows released. Upon landing she lunged for the nearest archer reloading his bow. She kicked him in the chest, commandeering his arrow. With an easy toss it landed in the black wolf as it sprung toward her. A savage yelp echoed in the forest. She smiled inside.
Her feet were swept out from under her and she landed on her ass but deftly jumped back up. She ducked under the first flying fist. A werewolf could usually beat her in an arm-wrestling match but they had nothing on her speed. Grabbing his arm when he swung at her again, she used his momentum to send him stumbling across the terrain. With him off balance, it was easy to snap his neck. His body slumped in a heap on the ground.
She spun to face the last werewolf. An arrow sliced through the air a fraction of a second before she could react. Pain erupted in her chest. Burning agony overwhelmed her senses. It took some effort to maintain her usual calm. She looked down.
Nothing more disturbing than seeing a pointy weapon lodged in your chest.
Especially knowing it would hurt like a bitch when she pulled it out.
She frowned at her assailant. “I really liked this shirt.”
The silent blonde stood perfectly still, mimicking her earlier vision of confidence. Only it looked better on him.
Finding a werewolf attractive?
That was new.
She lifted an arm to pull the arrow out, gritting her teeth at the expected explosion pain. Her limbs felt heavy. Her knees wobbled and her mind thickened with fog.
Poison arrow.
Shit.
She collapsed on the ground, her captor’s heavy boots her last vision before she faded.
Natalia woke in a hazy stupor. She kept her eyes closed, waiting for the memories to surface.
Ah, that’s right. Werewolf ambush.
And she’d walked right into it. Using her heightened sense, she assessed her environment. It was still night, of that she was thankful, since vampires were allergic to the sun. She inhaled the cool autumn air. Pine trees, fresh water, local game, werewolf. She wasn’t far from where she’d been ambushed.
And she was bound.
She opened her eyes. A campfire crackled several feet away. On the other side the blonde werewolf who’d shot her sat on a log, using a rock to sharpen something. An arrow head.
“Where are the rest of your merry men?” she asked.
He kept his gaze fixed on his work. “Just me, for now.”
“Lucky me.”
She experimented with her binds. If the werewolf had any experience with vampires he would know there wasn’t much that could hold them. She struggled with all her might to break through them, but to no avail. And she wasn’t about to bruise her skin for a lost cause.
So it wasn’t ordinary rope. Most likely it had
wolfsbane threaded through it, a common herb used to weaken vampires. He’d probably purchased the damn thing from a witch. Always causing trouble they were, blessing some, cursing others. Natalia knew all about witch blessings.
The mystery man had done a bang-up job with the knots as well. Her arms were twisted behind her, tied at each wrist then secured around the tree. Her legs were bound together at the ankles with the end of the rope resting beside the werewolf.
So she was dealing with a professional. A pity. It would hold things up.
“I don’t suppose you can loosen these?” she asked drily. First step in any escape plan was to ask to be released. It almost always didn’t work.
He looked at her, his expression bemused. “Not until I know you won’t be a problem.”
“Define problem.”
“In a word? You.”
A werewolf with a sense of humor?
That was new.
“So, you’re a bounty hunter?” she guessed. “Which unlucky bastard do you work for?”
He picked up another arrow and began sharpening it.
“What’s my bounty up to now?” Last she’d heard it was ten thousand. Of course, that was a few decades ago.
“A hundred grand.”
“Not bad.” She was flattered.
He stopped his task and studied her with narrowed eyes. “Why do they want you?” She couldn’t tell if he was impressed, disgusted, or merely curious.
“I kill werewolves,” she told him without hesitation.
He didn’t flinch, growl, or show any sign of anger. Strange. They were always angry about that.
“And why do you do that?” he asked.
“Because I like to.” It was true. But she told him so because she wanted to see his reaction. “And I’ll kill you too.”
His eyebrows darted up.
“Interesting thing for someone in your position to say.”
Her position.
Feeling the ache in her shoulders she looked down at her binds. “A minor inconvenience.”
A dark, husky chuckle came from across the fire.
Did he just laugh at me?
She’d been sneered at plenty, but genuine laughter was a first.
“So you’re a vigilante?” he asked.
Sort of. “Yes.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
So he was curious about her too? Or maybe he was attempting to distract her from her escape. Silly doggie. Didn’t he know she was a weapon of perfect focus?
“Before now,” she answered, “beautifully.” Well, that may not have been the best word. Mostly it was bloody, nasty business – with no workman’s comp – but surely he knew that.
“What’s your name?”
She smirked then tuned the werewolf out, concentrating only on her environment. She studied every sound, identified every scent.
From the tree roots jutting from the ground, to the closest body of water, to low hanging branches, and even the smallest rocks on the ground. When she broke free of the binds – and she
would
break free – she would use anything she could to escape. One never knew when a sharp rock may be the difference between life and death.
“Will you make me torture you for answers?” the werewolf asked after she’d been silent for a few minutes.
So it’s going to be like that.
She sighed. “No. You’ve most likely taken my wallet. I won’t withhold information you already have.” She wanted to roll her eyes at the repetition of it all.
Who are you? What are you doing here? Why did you kill my brother? Blah, blah, blah.
“I was merely concentrating on my escape plan. My name is Natalie.” Well, according to her driver’s license.
Her captor rose gracefully from the log. If she had any doubt he was a werewolf before, she had none now. He was huge, as all werewolves
were, at least six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and thick muscles that made the standard ranger uniform a little snug. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. One was brown, the other baby blue. The effect was unnerving. She tried not to stare.
“What are you doing in Yellowstone, vampire?”
She arched a brow. “Feeling territorial?”
“Answer the question.”
“Do you really think it will be that easy?”
“So you
will
make me torture you?”
Her eyes narrowed into her best threatening glare.
“Fair warning. I
really
don’t like being tortured. It puts me in a foul mood.”
“Let me guess.” His mouth curled up in mocking amusement. “Bad things happen when you’re in a foul mood?”
“Let me put it this way, the last time someone tried to torture me, I fed his balls to a pack of wild dogs.” The werewolf had deserved it. He hadn’t been her intended revenge but he had sufficed until she could catch up with the man she really wanted to castrate. Her mate.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” was his only response to her gruesome threat.
“So, Natalie, huh? A very nice American name.” He stood in front of her, his arms folded over his massive chest. “But you’re not American, are you?”
“Perceptive,” she said, “for a dog.”
He shook his head slowly, disapproval written all over his face. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Here you are, tied up with
my
rope, in
my
territory, and you’re mouthing off?”
“Nerve, I have an abundance of. What I don’t have is my weapons.”
“Nor will you get them. Did you forget you tried to kill me?”
“You started it.”
Impatience flared in his eyes. “You were about to take out that lone wolf!” The amused arrogance was gone when he took another step towards her. “How did you hear about the wolves’ blood? Who sent you?”
I guess fun time is over.
“What wolves’ blood? I have no idea what you’re talking about. And that wasn’t a lone wolf. It was a dangerous rogue werewolf. Can’t you tell the difference?”
“Answer the question.”
“
You
answer the question.”
Two blonde brows darted up. “Who has who tied up?”
She looked at her binds. “Irrelevant.”
He laughed.
She stared at him. When his chuckles faded she asked, “What’s the name of my temporary captor and soon to be dead man?”
He hesitated only a moment.
“Cristian.”
She couldn’t hold back a mocking smile.
“Cristian? Cristian the werewolf? That’s rich.”
He
smiled, his teeth white against his lush lips. “My mother was human, just like yours.” He paused to look in her wallet. “Natalie from Wisconsin.” He snorted.
She shrugged. Well, as much as she could with her arms tied behind her back.
“You don’t look like a Natalie.” He stooped down so they were eye-to-eye. “You changed it, didn’t you? To sound American.”
Since it was none of his business, she ignored him.
Using a knuckle he stroked her cheek. Her eyes widened. To her own surprise she didn’t snap at him with her fangs. Why did she like the feel of his skin on hers?
“What’s your real name?” he asked in a buttery voice.
She had to purse her lips to keep the answer from spilling out. What the hell was going on? It was almost as if he had some power over her. Must be the wolfsbane, she’d been near it too long.
“You’re too beautiful to be Natalie. Won’t you tell me your real name?” He smiled warmly and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
Her eyes widened at the strange encounter. Werewolves wanted her dead. All of them. They wanted to beat her, stab her, cut out her heart, burn her alive, etcetera, etcetera. She knew this because they’d told her so. On more than one occasion. In fact, there was probably a blog somewhere out there on the web sphere dedicated to the ways she should die. But never,
ever
did they want to caress her. Was this some kind of trick?
“Is it Natasha?
Nathalee?” When she didn’t respond, he guessed again. “No? What about Nata? Natalene?”
She bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood. Her body yearned to answer him. This was no ordinary werewolf. Good news for the northwest pack, bad news for her.
“Natalia?” Her face must’ve given her away because he grinned. “Natalia then, isn’t it?”
She didn’t bother to confirm it.
“Natalia,” he said with a slow smile. “That’s much better.”
“You’re not really a bounty hunter, are you?”
“Never said I was.” He stood up and walked back to his spot on the log. She could barely see him through the haze of the fire.
“Why didn’t you use silver to subdue me?” If he had, she’d have been free before she even opened her eyes. What most werewolves didn’t know was that Natalia was the only vampire immune to the effects of silver. She’d been locked in cages, hung from ceilings, handcuffed, and stabbed. But she’d always escaped because the deadliest agent in the supernatural world had no effect on her. Actually, that’s wasn’t quite true. Silver hoops did look lovely dangling from her ears.
“You’re no ordinary vampire,” he said. “Or else so many wouldn’t have failed.”
“Maybe I’m just a good fighter.”
“No doubt. But I don’t trust things I haven’t made myself.”
She looked at the bindings around her legs. “You make your own rope?”
He nodded.
“Tedious, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Some people knit. I make rope.”
“I guess everybody needs a hobby.”
“I think you can see it’s more than just a hobby, Talia.”