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Synopsis

Just one month ago, secret government operative Sasha Trudeau thought she'd tasted victory. Orchestrating detente between the warring factions of the supernatural world had nearly cost her life - but it also opened the door to a future with Max Hunter, her mate and fellow Shadow Wolf.

Until now. A poisonous virus is wreaking havoc on Hunter's immune system. And the passionate man who Sasha loves has become unpredictable, dangerous - and possibly deadly. When Hunter disappears the night a human is found ravaged, Sasha is thrust into a race against the clock to find the cure for her mate... and the traitor who's determined to see them both dead.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

New Orleans... four weeks after the UCE Conference

Watching Hunter shoot up with demon-werewolf anti-toxin clawed at her insides. As the squad leader for the U.S. Military's Paranormal Containment Unit, she couldn't passively witness this and make it all right, personal relationship notwithstanding. During the past three weeks she'd told herself so many lies, which was easy to do when not having to actually see Hunter take the meds--even though she knew Doc had insisted he stash them in his luggage as a precaution. But throughout this last and final week of her official leave the truth had gut-punched her. Everything about Hunter's deteriorating condition was not only antithetical to her job that was to ensure no humans were at risk, it pure and simply broke her heart.

Right now she had to finally admit that, her lover was a huge, six-foot-five, two-hundred and twenty pound potential explosive in a civilian environment. Max Hunter had been severely infected. Max Hunter could go through a hard transition on any given full moon, and could possibly wreck unspeakable havoc. Max Hunter was therefore a bio-hazmat. Denial was no longer acceptable. The fact that he hadn't totally flipped yet was probably moot.

Sasha closed her eyes for a moment, trying to wrest Captain Sasha Trudeau, the woman she'd been, to the forefront of her mind. It felt like the walls of Dugan's Bed & Breakfast were closing in on her. How was she supposed to stay here or explain to the barrel-chested elf who owned the place that he, his patrons, and his entire staff were at risk?

All demon-infected werewolves had been sent back behind the demon doors or exterminated in the region. As far as anyone knew, every infected Shadow Wolf on North American soil had also been exterminated. People and supernaturals felt safe again to walk the streets. She and Hunter were United Council of Entities icons of a supposed new era in supernatural diplomacy and law enforcement.

The normally timid believed in them and had banded together to find uncommon courage in the name of justice. The Fae Parliament had come together in an unusual display of solidarity, along with the Were Clans and the Shadow Clans to vote out the devious Vampire Cartel that had master-minded the entire black market, demon-wolf blood toxin scheme. Even the Mythics and Phantoms, for once, gave up their fierce feudal independence to join forces to oust those that supported the illicit demon-toxin trade. Uninfected Werewolf clans had a fragile peace with the clean Shadow clans, voting as huge blocks, which left a vendetta on the table with the Vampires. They had to watch their backs; everyone who'd gone against the Vampire Cartel had to stay sharp.

And now her man was fighting a very private, seemingly losing battle against the thing he'd championed at the conference--honor amongst wolves.

Defeat made each inhale ache as Sasha drew in shallow breaths. There were local business-supernaturals and pub owners to worry about too, like Ethan and his gentle, healing wife, Margaret, who also worked at Tulane posing as a human ER trauma unit nurse when not helping out at her husband's tavern. The couple was just now getting their lives back on track, trying to keep unsuspecting human patrons obliviously coexisting with their steady supernatural clientele at their lively Fae ale house around the corner. She'd half expected The Fair Lady to be firebombed by vamps after Ethan and Margaret had testified against them, effectively putting their lives on the line and exposing themselves and their young children to possible Vampire retaliation.

Hunter, therefore, had to hold the line for more than himself; the community looked up to him... them. Even her military brass had given her and her squad a much-needed month's leave following the glowing, albeit somewhat doctored reports--courtesy Xavier Holland--for a mission well-accomplished. Bless Doc for his golden pen. Disaster had been averted. After the tragic loss of a five star, General Donald Wilkerson, no one questioned her methods as long as they worked and the public was none the wiser. She knew a part of them was scared shitless and they really didn't want to know. As far as the brass was concerned, her squad had averted a potential civilian catastrophe--perhaps they had.

But the fact that one could have occurred meant that the pressure was on by the schizophrenic human military forces that wanted to learn more about all things preternatural. Brass wanted to know, but didn't want to know. People needed culpable deniability, but also needed to be able to sleep at night. Fear factors had to be addressed. That was real.

That meant sooner or later questions would be asked, there'd be a demand for cogent Intel, and anything the least bit suspect would make every high-ranking official up the food chain extremely nervous.

For now, they viewed her and her team as the best operatives to mine sensitive data. However, they didn't know jack about Hunter or the various wolf clans she'd kept on the down-low. Yet, in the supernatural community, she and Hunter were supposed to be the law, diplomats from the North American Shadow Wolf clan--protectors of the weaker supernaturals and humans. They'd even won a rare seat for Shadows and Werewolves to co-represent at the U.C.E. Elder's Bench.

Now this... horrible secret, the kind of thing she swore she'd never be a party to. Easier said than done. If the Shadow Clans learned of Hunter's struggle, after all they'd been through they'd possibly exterminate him on sight. His own enforcer, Bear Shadow, would be sent. That was the way of the wolf. Clean. Non-negotiable. Efficient. Then the local pack of his ancestry would grieve in long, mournful howls. His grandfather, Silver Hawk, would be given his remains, and then it would become pack and clan history told orally for generations to follow.

But she also had the other part of her life to worry about, the human side. If her military brass learned she was harboring a potential virus-carrier, and had slept with him, they'd have them both targeted. Best case, they'd shoot him and court martial her for treason, then hang her. At this point, she wasn't really sure that she cared. Her insides were dying very slowly as she watched the man she loved and had once admired slowly become lost to himself. A silver bullet to the center of her forehead would've been more merciful than witnessing this.

Sasha gazed out the window from where she sat amid mussed bed linens. Her squad was nearby; she could feel Fisher's presence, along with Woods's. The signature of her wolf familiars was strong enough to raise the hair on her arms, and where those guys were no doubt the rest of her squad would be too. Clarissa, Winters, and Bradley, hung with Woods and Fisher like family, which was a good thing. Couldn't hurt to have two good soldiers with solid wolf senses in a loose formation with a seer, a kinetics guy, and someone versed in the dark arts watching each other's backs in Voodoo town.

The sadder point was, though... they'd all bonded like family... loved Hunter like a brother, the same way Doc had taken him into his heart like a son. Confusion ate at her mind as she wrestled with the question of whom to go to first--Doc, or Hunter's grandfather, Silver Hawk, or maybe she'd quietly speak to the team's bio-chemist and resident seer, Clarissa, before alerting the elders?

Sasha kept her gaze trained on the window, trying her best to ignore the sight that haunted her peripheral vision--of Hunter prepping a vein. She then mentally shunted aside the sounds in the room until she could only hear the revelry going on at Finnegan's Wake bar across the street... fitting name for the merry Fae community that frequented the establishment, but the happiness had long been bled out of their room.

For over three weeks after the blue moon coordinated United Council of Entities Conference, Hunter had hidden his worsening condition from her like a junky. The only reason he'd been able to shape-shift so quickly at the Conference was because Doc had slipped him some meds. If she'd only known then... maybe she could have convinced him to go in for a full eval before it got this far. Hundreds of thoughts battled for dominance in her brain. There had to be something that could be done! Why did he hide it for so long?

But little-by-little his condition had been impossible to conceal from the person who'd shared his body and bed. Now his need eclipsed the shame and he'd simply stopped trying to pretend any more. It was what it was.

She'd seen the tracks; knew what they were from years of having taken those same meds at Doc's insistence. After a while, shooting up in less obvious places just didn't cut it; one needed a vein, a mainline artery. Denial had claimed her--making her pray they were spider bites, when she knew better. Now he was needle dependent... even though he'd ironically been the one to free her from the purgatory of life on metabolic drugs. There was no justice in the world. Each injection worked more slowly, was more painful. That's how she'd found out--t...

Copyright © 2009 by L. A. Banks

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