A Pack of Two. Jacky Russell
stationed in the United States Army Africa Division and the 173rd Airborne Brigade. According to Breanna, Bravo Company utilized the base anytime it deployed to Europe.
“I must be out of my mind,” I muttered, rolling down the window as the guards approached. The soldiers at the bar had made it clear they didn’t want me talking to Breanna, yet here I was, asking for her like I was her new best friend.
The human guards agreed to call her. Endless seconds stretched into minutes before the echo of boot stomps made my breath catch. Stepping out of my car, I waited as the heavy steel door beside the gate opened. The smell of musk rolled over me and my wolf took notice of the humans scurrying inside and the flood of werewolves pouring out.
“What the hell do you want?” one of the wolves asked.
Ten of them burst through the door and surrounded me. My wolf surged, demanding control, as I fought to push down the rising bile in my throat. I gave over to the beast within, my own dominance flowing forth. The soldiers backed away a few steps, giving me much-needed breathing room. My wolf wanted total control, to kill these who threatened me.
“I’m here to see Breanna,” I said between gritted teeth.
The blond wolf from the bar marched forward. His fist connected with my chin before I could react. I dropped my head and charged him, catching him in the stomach and slamming him into the iron gates. He pummeled the back of my head, but the pain barely registered as I landed blow after blow to his midsection.
Hands grabbed at me and I reacted, raining blows upon anyone within striking distance. The scent of blood, musk, and rage filled the night air. I was an animal, acting on sheer instinct, the need to survive taking over all rational thought. There was yelling, but nothing came through as words until she spoke my name.
“Lucas.”
I didn’t throw another punch, though a few more landed on me. I didn’t feel anything or see anything except Breanna.
Time stood still as she walked toward me. She was dressed in black fatigues and a US Army sweatshirt. Her brows were raised, a splatter of blood on her cheek, as she reached for my hand. Her lips moved but there was a deafening roaring in my ears now, my wolf furious at the attack.
Her eyes locked onto mine, her lips continuing to move as she stood mere inches from my face. I was gasping for air, desperate to calm my wolf, but unwilling to let go of the power he gave me. She came closer, until the warmth of her body pressed against mine.
She touched my jaw and my wolf retreated, leaving a trail of pain from the beating I had taken. For the first time I noticed the other wolves, now watching me warily, some on the ground while the others were leaning against the gate. One sprawled on the hood of my truck.
“Lucas, can you hear me?”
I nodded, not yet trusting my voice to stay steady. My body trembled under her fingers and I did what I could to pull myself together. This was not at all what I wanted her to see.
“C’mon in and I’ll get you cleaned up,” Breanna said softly as she turned my hands over to examine bloody knuckles.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I rasped. The others were watching us, their eyes swirling with silver.
“Fuck them,” she snarled, leading me past two wolves who were holding their ribs. “I’ll deal with them later. Right now, I need to get you taken care of.”
We passed the human guards and she told them to pull my truck inside the gates. They saluted her and dashed toward the front entrance.
“I’m sorry about all that,” she said as she led me into a room filled with medical supplies. She nodded toward a small examining bed and I pulled myself onto the paper-covered mattress.
“Seems every time you get around me, you end up getting hurt,” she said with a smile.
I ducked my head, my face getting hot. I must have looked like a weakling to her. I pushed off the bed, no longer willing to buy into the fantasy I had created. A woman like this didn’t want damaged goods like me.
“Hey, where you going?” She stood between me and the door.
The genuine pain on her face sucked the life from my soul. None of the kicks or punches hurt nearly as much as the way she was looking at me right now.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” I said lamely.
“Why did you come?” she asked. There was no accusation or anger in her voice, only concern.
“I wanted to thank you for fixing the fax.”
She took a deep breath, the rise and fall of her breasts making my own breath catch. She turned her back, busying herself with bandages.
“You could have called,” she said before spinning around to face me.
My hand that was resting on the door handle fell limply by my side. As much as I knew how this would turn out, I didn’t want to leave her.
“I wanted to see you again,” I answered, giving her the opportunity to call me on my ridiculous obsession.
“I wanted to see you, too.”
I gulped for air like a fish out of water.
She stepped toward me, taking my hand in hers. “Now that we are both equally uncomfortable, can I clean you up a bit?”
Her smile was friendly, so sincere it turned me to mush. The way I kept losing my ability to talk, Breanna would probably think I had some type of speech impediment.
She apologized over and over for the actions of the werewolves at the gate as she wiped the blood from my knuckles and face. She insisted on bandaging my ribs and holding ice to the blossoming bruises around my eye.
The powerful vibration of a master vampire preceded a vigorous knock at the door.
“Sergeant Welker?”
“Come on in, Sime.”
A tall, blond vampire marched into the room. Breanna didn’t flinch as she maintained the icepack against my cheek. Nothing in her scent suggested she was afraid of the vampire now scrutinizing us.
“Lucas Benelli, this is Major Simon DuChard, my CO.”
The vampire nodded eloquently. “Are you injured, Mr. Benelli?” He sounded French.
“Yes, he’s injured,” Breanna snapped. “Ten against one isn’t exactly fair.”
The fact she was defending me made me warm inside. Not a lot of people defended me.
“Nothing vital, Major DuChard. It was a misunderstanding,” I answered.
Breanna’s eyes lit up. “Misunderstanding, my ass. Aaron and them were being shithead bullies and they got their asses kicked.” She paused to adjust the ice bag. “And they’ll get them kicked again when I’m done.”
The vampire scowled. “Sergeant Welker, may I speak with you outside?”
“Not now.”
The vampire’s shoulders slumped, his irritation flooding the room. I’d already caused enough trouble and didn’t need to add to it.
“I’m okay,” I said, forcing a smile. “Go ahead and talk to him.”
She took my hand and placed it against the ice pack. “Hold this. I’ll be right back.” She snorted before walking past the vampire and out the door. God, she was beautiful when she was angry.
Breanna brooded over my scrapes and bruises for almost an hour before she walked me to my truck. Her unit was departing in a few hours and rather than getting rest, she was fussing over me. Major DuChard assured me Breanna was in no danger of retaliation from the soldiers I had fought. Actually, he’d insisted he would be protecting the werewolves from her.
I made it to work on time and was putting the final touches on the new