Fever by Lara Whitmore Page A

I won’t be at full speed for a while, but I can shift.”
    “Give ‘em hell.”
    He felt the need to say something more permanent in way of goodbye. Prowler instincts were telling him not to leave Vincent alone, especially now that he’d naturally recovered from silver. It was unheard of, making him a prime target for experimentation. Not that anyone else knew of it yet. They’d only just found out themselves.
    Logan cleared the thought from his mind. His only concern at the moment was finding Anna.
    Without a backward glance, he left the motel room.

Chapter Eleven
     
    Vincent groggily opened his eyes. Darkness had fallen beyond the motel window.
    I’m starving.
    He groaned as he sat up, reaching for the lamp switch. Light flooded the room with the intensity of the sun.
    Turn it off, turn it –
    A sigh of relief accompani ed the dying light. Shadows would do for now.
    He hadn’t drunk himself into a stupor since he was human, but the symptoms of a hangover were relentless. It made sense. Instead of ridding itself of alcohol, his body had rid itself of silver.
    He eyed the cup of water on the bedside table. And narcotics.
    One of his hands lashed out , slapping the cup off the table. Water sloshed everywhere, but it was satisfying to diminish the scent of drugs. The action wasn’t entirely his own. He could feel the wolf languidly stretching in the depths of his mind. It was quite satisfied with itself.
    Vincent smiled at its evident presence. He would never admit it to anyone else, but he’d missed the wolf. It was a part of him now, like a soul mate or a familiar spirit .
    He threw t he covers back. It took a few minutes to gather enough will to stand. When he did, the room wavered. Cool air flowed around him. Within seconds of shivering, his body temperature soared to keep him warm. Neither he nor the wolf were entirely healed yet, but the wolf would protect him until he’d regained his energy.
    He padded to the bathroom. After taking care of business and drinking some water, he ventured back into the room to search for clothing. There must have been some in the dresser next door, but he was too exhausted to walk that far. He settled for the jeans at the foot of the bed, still ripped at the thigh. They would do.
    He’d just finished zipping them up when there was a knock at the door.
    If only it could have been a pizza delivery guy. Bacon and pepperoni with stuffed crust would be heaven in a box right about now. It had been far too long.
    “Vincent,” a man called, tone condescending.
    The voice immediately set the wolf on edge. The room transformed as his eyes grew bright. His senses sharpened. It was good to be back.
    “I know you’re in there, Vincent. I can smell you. Open the door. We just want to talk.”
    Like hell.
    Vincent dove for the duffel bag of weapons, guided by its violet glow. The few steps he took pounded against the carpet, alerting those outside to his decision.
    He heard a muffled, “Fine.”
    The door was kicked open. Wood splinters flew across the room, hitting the far wall with hollow clinks . Sawdust and paint chips floated into the room on a light breeze. Moonlight streamed onto the carpet, casting the room in a hazy glow.
    H ands grabbed Vincent’s arms before he reached the duffel. Two hands on either side. They dragged him back, away from the weapons and any chance of escape. Judging by the stench in the room, there were three of them. Even on his best day, he couldn’t fight off three members of the pack.
    The two men holding him spun him around to face Jay, one of the highest ranking patrol leaders. Vincent hadn’t seen him for at least six months. It looked as if he’d gained some muscle in that time. Though his smile was friendly, his eyes were cold.
    “Vincent.” H e spread his hands. “Tsk, tsk. You should really take it easy after your encounter with Mitch. The scent of your blood was overwhelming when he returned to us. For a moment there, we thought we’d lost