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  “What’s happening?” she asked, wanting to see what occurred next.

  “Can you tell where they went?” Jonah asked the tower.

  “The other feed shows them moving south toward their base camp,” Razor said.

  This couldn’t be happening. Roark had her grandfather and now the Sand Devils had Morgan—thanks to Demery. They wouldn’t take a dead man with them, which meant Morgan had still been alive. At least he had been thirty minutes ago. “Where’s their base camp?” Red asked, her brain on autopilot.

  “They’re about a three-hour journey south of here. It’s only ten miles, but the terrain is rough going. Of course, it won’t take them as long to get there since they’re not on foot,” he said.

  Red thought about her grandfather locked in Roark’s prison and her stomach nearly emptied its acids onto the floor. She threw her head back and this time she did scream—a primal piercing sound that brought her wolf to the surface. Her body trembled violently in impotent rage.

  How was she supposed to choose between the two men that she loved? She couldn’t. Red pictured Morgan’s limp form being tossed into a Sand Devil vehicle and her mind splintered.

  “No!” she shouted as the alarms died. “Damn you, Demery!” They should never have left him.

  Jonah had risen from his desk and backed against the wall. His hands were outstretched, placating. “Calm down. Take a breath. What are you going to do?” he asked softly, almost as if he were afraid to let her know he was still in the room.

  Red swung on him wildly, her gaze barely able to focus beyond the crimson haze clouding her vision. What was she going to do? She knew her grandfather wouldn’t want her to come after him. And neither would Morgan. Both would tell her to pursue the other.

  Her heart was breaking as she took a shuddering breath. Not since the loss of her parents and sister had Red been in so much pain. Was it possible to die from heartache? Red didn’t even know she was crying until Jonah held out a cloth. She snatched it from his hands and violently scrubbed her face.

  The room flashed before her eyes again, switching from drab beige to rich color. She knew the wolf inside her was fighting to get out. “I have to go,” she said, striding toward the door.

  “Go where?” Jonah asked.

  “To get my mate back.” The thought of leaving her grandfather nearly buckled Red’s knees, but the truth was that Morgan was closer. She’d just have to pray Roark didn’t do anything hasty.

  Even as the thought crossed her mind, Red felt what little hope she had die inside.

  “That’s suicidal,” Jonah said. “The Sand Devils number in the hundreds. You are only one woman.”

  “I’m stronger than I look.” And a lot more deadly.

  “At least let me send a couple of my men with you,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No, I’ll travel faster on my own.” Red wasn’t about to be responsible for anyone else’s death.

  A familiar voice whispered in her mind, but she was too far gone mentally to respond. Red changed into baggy clothes, then made her way to the lift. She wouldn’t shift until she got out of sight of the outpost. Thanks to the vid the guards had played, she knew just how far that needed to be.

  “Give me my guns,” she growled. “Now!”

  The guards didn’t question her. They simply tossed down the weapons and she quickly scooped them up. Red took a deep breath and howled.

  Raphael winced and rubbed his temples as pain flashed behind his eyelids. He swayed and Catherine reached out to catch him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. Her hand moved to stroke her gun. A nervous habit she’d developed over the last few days. It worried him.

  “I’m fine,” Raphael said, taking a steadying breath. “But something is wrong with Red.”

  Catherine stopped suddenly and he nearly barreled into her. “What do you mean something is wrong?”

  He could see the emotions swirling behind her green eyes. A lovely mixture of panic and something indefinable.

  Michael stopped and adjusted his pack. “What’s happened?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. She shut me out, but not before I sensed immense torment.”

  “Has she been injured?” he asked.

  Raphael shook his head. “I don’t think so. This felt more like mental anguish than physical.” What had happened to cause such a severe reaction? He rubbed his arms to ward off the sudden chill. He tried to reach Morgan, but was met with a wall of pain.

  “We need to pick up the pace,” Catherine said, tightening her pack so she could jog.

  “It won’t do us any good if we collapse from heat stroke before we reach her,” Raphael reminded her. He’d donned his long-sleeved clothing to give him some protection, then lathered on the sunscreen, but still felt the heat saw in and out of his lungs with every breath.

  They ran anyway, covering the last of the foothills. Michael stopped at the base of the final one and inhaled.

  “Do you smell it?” he asked.

  Raphael frowned and breathed deeply. His muscles froze the second the familiar fragrance hit him. “Morgan.” He sniffed loudly, half afraid of what he’d find next. Fortunately, he didn’t detect any blood, but he did smell something equally disturbing—another vamp. Demery? And there were others around. More purebloods than he could distinguish.

  “Do you have his scent?” Michael asked.

  Raphael nodded. “Yes, follow me.”

  He trotted over the desert floor, stopping every few feet to sniff the air. Morgan’s scent remained strong, but it appeared to be leading off into two directions. He squinted and caught a flash of metal in the sunlight.

  “There.” He pointed.

  “I see it,” Michael said.

  “I’m not sure which way he went,” Raphael said.

  Michael stepped forward and slowly turned in a circle. “His scent is stronger that way,” he said, pointing south. “I also sense something else. Another wolf, perhaps.”

  “Is it Red?” Raphael asked.

  “Can’t tell.” Michael shook his head in frustration. “Damn heat is distracting me.”

  Catherine raised her arm. “I vote we follow the unknown wolf,” she said, continuing without waiting for an answer.

  Raphael looked at Michael and shrugged. “Fine with me.”

  Michael smirked. “That woman leads you around by your balls.”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Raphael said, grinning.

  chapter twenty-seven

  R

  ed left the safety of the compound, feeling more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. Jonah had given her approximate directions to the Sand Devil campsite. A month ago she would’ve shot and killed him on sight and now she was depending on him to find Morgan.

  She ran, stopping every hundred yards or so to see if she could catch Morgan’s scent. His musky fragrance tickled her nose, but it was followed by a more sinister odor of fear. Whether it was Morgan’s or someone else’s, she couldn’t tell.

  Red’s heart thudded painfully in her chest as she picked up her pace. She glanced over her shoulder, but could still see the towers at the outpost glistening in the sun. If she could see them, then they could see her, which meant she hadn’t traveled far enough. Red raced on until the lookout towers could no longer be discerned from the landscape.

  She glanced ahead. The swirl of dust from the Sand Devil vehicles had long since faded. Red prayed she was still going in the right direction. Red continued on a little farther, then stopped. She glanced around to make sure she was alone. Nothing greeted her but the warm desert breeze. She inhaled deeply, beckoning the wolf to come forth. It leapt at the chance, no longer timid and shy.

  Pain racked her body. Red threw her head back as bones broke and blood splattered the front of her shirt. She cried out, unable to contain the agony as her body reformed into a two-legged shape she barely recognized.

  Red closed her eyes as her vision faded to black. She awoke with a start and
glanced around. What she’d considered a world of beige now took on new nuances of color. There were golds, reds, and coppers mixed with the beige, giving the desert a glistening effect to her wolf eyes. Red looked at the sky. The sun was still high, which meant she hadn’t been out long.

  She inhaled smelling the musk of her fur, the coppery tang of blood, and the sharp acidic scent of anticipation. Her jaw snapped shut with a clack as she ground her incisors together. Claws sharp as razor wire and twice as deadly stretched out where short nails used to be. She flexed them, watching them retract and extend.

  Red’s muscles bunched and she leapt forward, running at speeds that would’ve been impossible only moments ago. Her claws dug into the earth, leaving deep furrows behind. From the sun’s location, she knew she was making good time. She could smell Morgan on the breeze, his male scent mingling with that of others.

  Red ran over the uneven terrain, but despite the heat she felt anything but tired. Her mind and body were energized as she took in the world around her. So much to see, so much to do, with only one goal in mind: find Morgan. Red had no time to think about Roark holding her grandfather. She couldn’t contemplate the torture he might be enduring or she’d turn around and head back to the boundary fence.

  She came upon the Sand Devil compound in the late afternoon. She hit the ground and sniffed, easily locating the guards who watched over the area. Unlike Jonah and his band of men, these men didn’t bathe. There were six of them. Out of those six only one appeared vigilant. The rest were distracted by what was happening in the center of the compound. Her mouth watered in anticipation, but she didn’t move. First she needed to locate Morgan.

  Red worked her way around the encampment until she spotted Demery’s white protective suit. He was seated next to a fire across from the Sand Devil leader, Reaper, and the woman Demery claimed was his blood. Red didn’t know who she really was, not that it mattered. Demery had risked everything for Melea, a mistake he would soon regret.

  The jingle of chains had Red’s ears perking. She followed the sound and that’s when she spotted Morgan. His bound arms were outstretched and his chest was bleeding. Chains dangled from his bare neck and waist, binding him to a post.

  He wore a makeshift collar. Red had seen those in the history vids. People used to put them on their pets. His amber eyes were closed, but his breathing was steady. She could sense the anger burning inside of him. At least he was conscious.

  Red continued making her way in a circle, using small mounds of sand and dried dirt as cover, trying to search for an easy entry. There was none. If she wanted her mate, she’d have to fight her way in. Her wolf raised its head in eagerness. From this vantage point, she now had a better view of Morgan.

  She watched as one of the Sand Devils approached him with a long dagger. He sliced a fresh wound on his arm and held a cup under the tear as the blood dripped down. When it started to slow, the man reached up and squeezed his flesh to increase flow. Morgan growled, but the man ignored him, intent on doing his job. The man filled two cups, then brought them to Demery and Reaper, who drank with gusto. Neither one acknowledged Morgan’s presence. To them he was an animal to be used for sustenance.

  Red’s body trembled in fury and her claws ripped at the earth, scoring it with her anger. If they wanted an animal, she’d give them one. The wind shifted and Morgan’s head shot up. He looked in her direction before quickly dropping his chin. The glance may have been short, but the warning was clear. He might not be able to see her, but he knew she was there and wasn’t happy about it.

  For a second, Red questioned her decision. Should she have gone after her grandfather instead? There was only one of her and at least a hundred Sand Devils. What chance did she stand? She couldn’t fight them all. She looked back at Morgan and caught a quick head jerk. Did he think she’d just leave him here to slowly bleed out? Surely he wasn’t that naïve.

  Red thought about Roark and what he was doing to her grandfather while she hesitated to act. Her resolve solidified. Both she and Morgan would get out of here together or no one would get out alive.

  She began to stalk the nearest guard. Everyone was so busy celebrating the capture of Morgan that no one noticed when Red took the first guard down with a swipe of her claws across his carotid artery. The blood from his neck wound showered the ground as he dropped to his knees.

  The only sound came from a gurgle as he attempted to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish exposed to air. She’d been worried about Demery scenting the blood until she saw him drinking from the cup. He wouldn’t be able to smell anything with blood in his mouth and Morgan bleeding nearby.

  Demery laughed at something Reaper said, then held out his hand for Melea to come to him. She did—in a rush. Not that Red could blame her. Melea was trapped between two powerful men, neither of whom truly cared for her. Red had only been around the Sand Devil leader for a few hours, but in that short period he’d proven himself a ruthless bastard. She wouldn’t feel bad when she killed him. He deserved far worse for what he’d done.

  The second guard was harder to take down. He kept shifting positions, which made it difficult to sneak up on him without alerting him to her presence. In the end, Red leapt fifteen feet, landing on his chest and knocking the wind out of him.

  He punched her repeatedly to try to dislodge her. The blows hurt, but Red refused to release him. When punching didn’t work, he inhaled to scream, but turned blue in the attempt. Red reached out and snapped his neck, letting it stay at the odd angle as she moved on to the next man. The thrill of the kills left her head spinning. The wolf was out for blood.

  The third man seemed more interested in what was happening inside the encampment than in what was going on outside. His mistake, Red thought as she sliced open his abdomen, gutting him. He didn’t make a sound when he spotted her, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief as he saw his intestines lying on the ground at his feet. Red growled softly as she fought the urge to taste her kill.

  “Later,” she hissed softly.

  There were only three guards left. Red saw Morgan cocking his head left and right, listening. Was he following her progress? Her wolf mind couldn’t decide. It was too focused on the next hunt, the next kill.

  Red snuck up on the final three by crawling on her belly. One man was looking around and had finally noticed that the other men were gone. Red surged forward before he could sound an alarm. Her jaws clamped down on his throat while she impaled the other two with her claws. Like knives, they slid in deep, under their rib cages, filleting their hearts as she flexed her fingers.

  The men dropped, while the guard in her mouth whimpered. His Adam’s apple bobbed against her tongue. Red’s jaw locked to prevent him from escaping. She squeezed until his windpipe caved beneath the pressure. Red tasted his hot, sticky blood and quickly swallowed a few gulps, then licked her lips as he joined his friends in death.

  With the guards down she rose, knowing she’d only get one chance at this. She raced toward the leader of the Sand Devils. Reaper’s reactions were slower than she’d anticipated, or maybe she was just faster. Melea screamed as Red stretched out her claws and swiped at him. Reaper stumbled back and she missed delivering a fatal blow. He was bleeding from where her claws raked his chest. There was no time to try again, so Red spun on Demery.

  “I trusted you,” she snapped, her jaws closing with an audible click.

  Anger and outrage erupted from her. He’d trapped her mate. Sliced him. Bled him. And drunk from him. For that he would pay. She hunched, preparing to leap.

  Before she could attack, Reaper rushed her like a maglev tank. “You bitch!” His big hands locked around her as he squeezed her against his chest.

  Morgan struggled, pulling at his chains. He shifted and the chain holding his right hand twisted and snapped. The air rushed out of Red’s lungs. Reaper was going to break her ribs. She kicked out, connecting with his shins, but his grip didn’t loosen. Her vision swam from lack of oxygen. If she didn’
t break free now, it would be too late.

  “Hold her,” Demery shouted, trying to get close.

  She kicked a boot at his face and the vamp backed away. Red opened her mouth wide and bit down as hard as she could, breaking Reaper’s arm and severing tendons. He bellowed and released her, shoving her away. Red gasped, trying to catch her breath. Her lungs burned as she rose, preparing for the next attack. Some people watched, fascinated by the creature that would dare attack their leader. Others ran, terrified by what they’d witnessed thus far.

  Red’s claws clacked as she brushed them together. “No one bleeds my mate and lives,” she barked. The garbled words were followed by a deep growl. She felt the hair on her neck and legs rise as she and Reaper circled each other.

  Reaper was favoring his wounded arm, but he’d pulled a knife from somewhere and now held it out, swiping at the air.

  Red bared her teeth, snapping at him as she circled slowly in search of an opening.

  He jabbed.

  She dodged, sucking in her stomach. The blade barely missed the tender flesh of her abdomen. She could hear Morgan pulling at his chains, clanging them as he fought to get loose. Red knew soon he’d be free. But this man would be dead long before that occurred.

  “Come on,” she shouted. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Patience, love. I’ll get to you in a moment.” Reaper never took his beady eyes off her when he addressed Demery. “You were holding out on me. You told me there was only one.”

  “You only asked for one,” Demery said, moving toward Morgan. “Let me show you how to end this.”

  She growled out a warning, which Demery didn’t heed. “This is your last chance,” she shouted as Demery pulled out a laser pistol.

  Red didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. She swung away from Reaper, her arm arcing wide as she caught Demery across the chest with her long claws, tearing his suit. She heard him gasp, but knew it was more out of surprise than out of pain. The leader of the Sand Devils took the moment her back was turned to charge.