Rapture's Claim
Rapture Series

Excerpt

Rapture's Claim
an excerpt

Chapter One

One never really knows the choices one has to make in life until they are thrust upon them. Up until this moment, Lizzy Greenley had lived a sheltered life, protected from the outside world by her loving family, but now she felt her world crashing down on her bruised shoulders. Glancing through the wooden boards of the rattling rail car at the rising sun's flickering light, Lizzy could see a wall of green and brown beyond. She had lost track of the time, but the train had moved into the northern forests of the mountains during the night. She could smell the change from the city smog to the pine-filled air. Her mouth watered as she scented fresh game. Her body ached to leap off the train and race through the forest. Shifting right now wouldn't be a good idea no matter how hard it would be, considering how rarely she changed. Besides she could never leave.

The man lying beside her on the floor, his body hot with fever, moaned fitfully. She rubbed his bare muscular arm. He sighed and lay still once again. Jeremy Sanderson. NFL's next rising star. Best arm in the business. After four years of college through a full-ride scholarship, he had been drafted and following a successful Rookie year was marked to become one of the greatest quarterbacks ever. His strong, muscular body lay shaking like a child beside her on the floor of a train heading north all because of her. They were running from people who wanted her, Lizzy, one of a very few female werewolves in existence and because Jeremy had been tricked into taking W, a synthetic werewolf steroid, so he could be a better quarterback.

Beneath her hand, she felt Jeremy's body start to tremble. He had gone into several seizures during the night. Five maybe six, she had lost count. She knew this wasn't good for humans. Brain damage and all that. Lizzy moved around, sliding carefully on the splinter-filled floor so she could hold his head with her hands. When his body began to thrash about as it would soon, he didn't need a concussion on top of everything else that had happened last night. He had gained a lot of muscle over the past few months and had become too strong for even her to hold down. Tears stung her eyes as she watched his arms flail about in the air and his legs jerk, his dress shoes scraping ruts in the wooden floor. The seizure wouldn't last long, she reminded herself, and within thirty seconds, albeit long seconds, his body calmed and he lay still again.

"Did I hurt you?" Jeremy's voice, raspy, full of concern, nearly made Lizzy burst into tears. It had been over an hour since he had last spoken.

"No, I'm fine," she said. "Is it getting any better?"

"It hurts all the time now," he said.

"Why did you do it?" she asked for the hundredth time.

"Everyone takes steroids," he said, weakly. "Only way..."

Not everyone took performance enhancing drugs. Why Jeremy? Why?

"I wish..." his voice trailed off. He rolled onto his side laying his head on her lap, extending his arm around her thigh.

"You wish?" she prompted.

"I wish it was last summer," he said, his voice dry, needing water she didn't have, "and I hadn't met those people and this hadn't happened."

She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing his reddish-brown bangs off his sweaty brow. W. She smelled it on him when she had first seen him yesterday after the day of training camp. His team had won and when she leapt into his arms to kiss him, she smelled the drug on his skin, tasted it in his kiss. Thinking she must be wrong in the confusion of the moment, she hadn't noticed it again until after the banquet and they started dancing. Then everything had gone wrong. An argument. She tried to leave. Stopped by a pack of werewolf unknowns, she felt threatened. Jeremy tried to help, pushing her out of the way, taking on the wolves, getting hurt. Security arrived and they scattered, Lizzy and Jeremy running to the edge of town, boarding a slowly passing freight train, planning to get off at the next town, call for help. But then Jeremy had gone into a convulsion. After which, he told her about the steroids. She told him about W. He had gone silent, his way of dealing with bad news and she knew to give him time to think about it. His body had gone into more convulsions and they hadn't talked about it since.

W, the nickname for the werewolf steroid, actually came from synthesized werewolf blood. It was meant to be used by human-werewolf half breeds to help them to shift. It was used illegally by humans to enhance their performance in athletics. Several sports stars had already been suspended due to its use. Side effects were the same as steroids, including increased muscle mass and violent tendencies. It was believed, but not yet proven, that with enough W in one's system, one could become a werewolf. The addiction was severe and withdrawal painful, even with other drugs to help the body adjust. The other cure for the addiction was something Lizzy shouldn't but had begun to consider as she watched the man she loved suffer.

At first, she had been angry that he succumbed to the temptation of performance enhancing drugs. When he finally convinced her he hadn't known it was W and his coach had pumped into his system, she felt sorry for him. It broke her heart to watch the man she loved suffer so. They had planned to marry shortly after graduating from university, but Jeremy had been under so much pressure as a rookie they put off planning a wedding until he became more settled with a team. She said she didn't mind being the wife of a football star as long as he didn't mind her being a werewolf. Jeremy laughed, saying it only made their life much more interesting.

Now this man who loved her so much, died bit by bit in front of her. And she knew the only way to cure him.

"Jeremy," she said, running her hand along his arm down to his wrist.

"Yes?" he said, exhaustion making his voice weak.

"You know I love you," she said, picking up his hand, lifting it to her face where she pressed it against her cheek.

"If you want me to make love to you," he muttered, "I'm afraid I wouldn't be much good." He chuckled and ended up coughing, his breathing ragged.

"You know I would do anything to help you, Jeremy," she said, kissing his palm.

"It's all right, Lizzy," he muttered, "the train will stop soon. Then we'll get off. Get to a hospital. Get some help."

His body began to jerk. She held his hand tight. The train wasn't going to stop. She had smelled the freshly cut trees for a long time. This train was on a long haul to the ocean and wouldn't get there for two or three days. Jeremy didn't have that long. His human heart would give out long before then. She waited a few more seconds for the moment when his body convulsed, his head bent back and his eyes rolled up in his head. At that point, Jeremy would lose consciousness. No need for him to feel anymore pain than necessary.

His back spasmed, throwing his neck and head off her lap. She held his palm tight with both her hands now. He glanced at her face and recognition flashed in his eyes. As his head tilted back and before his throat constricted shut, he forced out, "No."

Lizzy bent over his hand, opened her mouth, and bit into the soft flesh between his thumb and first finger. Blood squirted into her mouth. Her stomach rumbled. Only human flesh and blood was the best. It beat out animal many times over but to bite a human was punishable by death. Lizzy didn't care. And she kept her teeth submerged in Jeremy's hand, letting her saliva intermingle with the blood, pushing it forcefully with her tongue into the wound.

Her body shuddered. Her teeth clamped down harder on his hand. Good, so good. She sucked at the blood. It had been a long time since she had tasted human blood. Only once before had she been allowed. Now she remembered the draw of it. She could sense Jeremy's beating heart begin to slow. In the back of her mind, she knew this was good and that she should let go now. But the blood. It flowed into her mouth, down her throat, warmed her stomach. She had sacrificed for him. He could give her a little more of his blood. Selfish man. Wanting to be the best athlete. Bastard. She was supposed to be first in his life. She...With a sob, Lizzy jerked open her jaw and shoved his hand away, dropping it on his chest.

She crawled to far side of the rail car, wiping her mouth, disgusted with the thoughts that had run through her mind. Curling up in a corner, she brought her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around her head, burying her face in her lap. She had nearly succumbed, nearly killed him. This addiction was worse than what Jeremy had. This addiction belonged to her other side, her werewolf side. She could taste his blood on her lips and tongue, could hear his body pounding with life, life she could take anytime while he was in this weakened state. Lizzy shook her head. No. Not Jeremy. The walls of the railcar closed in. Never Jeremy.

* * *

The rural community of Rocks End had become home to an assortment of supernatural beings and humans, all managing to live at peace with one another most of the time. Werewolves made up the largest population followed by demons, vampires, and humans. Horse breeding was the main focus of the community and the small town sat surrounded by large ranches. On the largest ranch, Stephen Greenley sat at the kitchen table eating a breakfast of eggs and bacon. His partner, Mark, placed a plate stacked high with toast in the centre of the table and sat down across from Stephen. Stephen glanced at his cell phone for the fourth time since sitting down.

"She's probably still asleep," Mark said, "it is only 8:30 a.m."

Stephen sighed. "I know but I just wish she'd call."

"She's an adult now," Mark said, "You have to stop worrying about her."

"But she left so angry on Friday," Stephen said. "I should have told her I trusted her. I shouldn't have warned her off him. I shouldn't have--"

"Being such a caring, protective guardian?" Mark finished.

Stephen growled. "I was going to say a werewolf."

Mark smiled and grabbed Stephen's wrist. "It's what you're supposed to do as patriarch and her cousin."

They both jumped as the phone rang. Stephen glanced at the screen. His look of hope faded to one of concern. "Morning, Julie, how are you?"

"Sara asked me to ask you if Lizzy had called yet?" Julie, Mark's sister, lived on the smaller ranch next door with her two husbands, Brad, a werewolf, and Victor, a vampire, and their brood of children, Sara being the oldest of triplets who had all been born with psychic abilities of varying degrees, Sara being the strongest.

"No, why? Did she have a dream about her?" Stephen asked, his heart starting to race. Ten-year-old Sara's dreams often foretold bad news.

"She says she felt Lizzy was in a dark place but she wasn't afraid, just sad," Julie said. Stephen heard Julie's voice become muffled as if she had pulled the phone to the side. He could hear her talking to a younger female voice. Julie's voice came through clear again. "Sara says she feels Lizzy moving away, getting fainter."

"Tell Sara thanks and I'll call back when I've spoken to Lizzy." Stephen ended the call and pressed Lizzy's speed dial number. Sara's dreams had never been wrong before but right now Stephen wanted more than anything for his cousin to answer her phone and tell him she was all right. If she was sad, maybe she and Jeremy had fought. Maybe they'd broken up and she was sitting on a bus on her way home right now, too heartbroken to call him.

Lizzy's father, Stephen's last remaining uncle, had died a few years ago and Stephen, as Patriarch of the Greenley werewolf pack, had become her guardian. He and Mark had never planned to have children so bringing a teenager into their home had been quite a challenge, especially one who knew her power and status in the werewolf pack. Being one of only a few werewolf females she could get away with murder, quite literally.

As his phone started to ring through, he replayed their argument before she had left. "You can't marry him, Lizzy."

"I can marry whomever I want," she had said, standing in the middle of the kitchen, her hands on her hips, her legs spread wide defensively.

"You've put Jeremy's life in danger," he said, trying to sound reasonable, "the other werewolves will soon start trying to prove themselves worthy to you by attacking Jeremy. Do you want to see him get beat up every time? He's not strong enough to fend them off. How long do you think he's going to put up with all that werewolf stuff before he decides you're just not worth it?"

Lizzy's face had blanched at his words. He had so wanted to take them back but she had taken a step toward him, her fist raised. "I am twenty-five years old, Stephen," she had said. "I don't need your permission to marry Jeremy or anyone else I choose. And no antiquated werewolf clan rules are going to stop me. I'll leave first." Lizzy had run across to the stairs and started up.

"If you care anything at all about Jeremy," he had called after her. "You'll break it off."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she had yelled down from the top of the stairs. "My father?" And he had heard her run into her bedroom and slam the door shut.

The ringing stopped on Lizzy's cell phone. A man's voice spoke. "Hello?"

"Who is this and where is Lizzy?" Stephen said, his grip tightening on his phone.

"This must be the venerable Stephen Greenley, Patriarch of the Greenley Wolves," the man spoke, amused. "It is good to finally meet you."

"Who are you?" Stephen growled into the phone, sensing the predatory nature of the man on the other end, his body aching to change already.

"My name is Bartos Satislov," he said, a Russian accent coming through when he spoke his name, "of the Satislov pack of, as you well know, no fixed address. You may call me Bart. May I call you Stephen?"

"Where is Lizzy? Why do you have her phone?" Stephen rose from his chair and started pacing. He glanced at Mark who could hear the conversation with his sensitive wolf hearing and sat, stone-faced, ready to leap if necessary.

"Well, Stephen, I too am trying to find out where your charge and her human boyfriend have gone," Bart said, "I was in the middle of a conversation with Jeremy's coach. Seems I have gleamed some very interesting information. Did you know Coach Andrews is also of werewolf heritage..." Stephen could hear some snapping and growling in the background followed by a pain-filled yelp, "...and that he had designs on Jeremy and your love-struck cousin."

Even though the logical part of Stephen's brain tried to tell him to listen to this important bit of news, his emotional mind screamed for him to find Lizzy.

"What has he done with her?"

"Oh, nothing," Bart said, "you see last night after the banquet, he tried to persuade her to join his pack by telling her what he had been injecting Jeremy with. Jeremy had thought it just plain old steroids. Seems the team's next superstar has been getting supercharged on W. When Lizzy found out, she called the coach a few choice words and walked away, threatening to call the authorities, meaning you I suppose, on him. He followed them outside, pleading his case. He didn't want to lose his star football player. Both ran away after the banquet."

She wouldn't have gone without her purse and cell phone. "I don't believe you," Stephen said, "let me talk to Coach Andrews."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Bart said, "he's become indisposed for awhile." A few seconds of silence made Stephen's skin crawl. He expected to hear fists hitting flesh or moaning or something vicious to show Bart's sick side. Bart's voice came back just as smooth and calm as before.

"But he did tell me, he saw them hop a freight train headed north," Bart said. "But don't worry. I checked and that train is going to make a stop in the next few hours. When I get them off the train I'll contact you again as to where and when you can pick them up."

"Don't you hurt her," Stephen growled.

Bart laughed. "She is very precious to you, is she not? Very valuable? I look forward to meeting such a jewel." His voice became serious, deepening an octave. "I understand breeding females are difficult to come by. I am so looking forward to meeting her."

The phone went dead. Stephen stared at it then howled in anger. "Don't you touch her you bastard!"

Mark pulled out his own phone. "Julie, bad news. Lizzy and Jeremy are on a freight train headed north. Without their phones."

"I'll call Stan at the station, see if he can figure out which train and where it is now," Julie said. His phone went silent again.

Stephen continued pacing across the floor, running his hand through his black hair. "What have I done? Why didn't she call if she was in trouble? Why...?"

"Stop, Stephen," Mark said. "This isn't helping. Sara said Lizzy was just sad, not frightened."

"Do you think Jeremy is dead?" Stephen asked, his eyes full of pain. "Maybe he died because he didn't get his next shot? Oh, my poor girl. To have to watch that."

"Stephen!" Mark yelled.

"What?"

"Be a patriarch," Mark said. "One of your pack members is out there and needs you. Think. What should you be doing?"

Stephen looked at Mark blankly. He couldn't think. Lizzy was in trouble. She didn't know it yet but another pack was about to find her and take her from the train. The train. He had to get to the train first. Save her. How to get to a train faster than the wolves who had a good two hour head start?

Mark's cell phone rang again. "Julie? Minneapolis? That far north?" He glanced at Stephen. "We have to take a plane to get there."

"Victor has a way to help," Julie said, "but Lizzy is not going to like it." As she explained the plan, both Mark and Stephen blanched.

"It's the only way?" Stephen asked knowing Julie could hear him.

"Yes," Julie responded, her voice ominous sounding.

As Mark closed the phone, Stephen shook his head. "I hope she realizes she's being rescued or I might be doing reparations for damaged body parts for a long time."