Lycan Legacy - Paladin: Tales of Luna White - Werewolf by Veronica Singer (funny books to read TXT) 📕

Mike pulled out his silver dagger and placed it between us, hilt pointed toward me. “I swore I would follow your lead anywhere, do anything to help you. And not just because you saved my life a time or two. I believe you have a higher calling.”

He looked down, unable to meet my eyes. “If you can’t trust me, then you should take the dagger back. Find someone else to follow you.”

“But it’s not like that! I trust you. I just can’t brief you when other werewolves are around.”

Mike turned his head around in an exaggerated inspection of the horizon. “There are no werewolves around now.”

I wrapped my anger around me like a cloak. “I’m the alpha. I don’t bargain with my pack.”

“You’re ‘the alpha,’” he said, making air quotes, “but you’re not my alpha. You can’t order me around like a puppy.”

A sudden fear sent shivers down my spine. Would Mike quit now? In the middle of a mission? The fear was followed by a sense of loss. With me, he might survive out here; by himself, he would almost certainly die.

I closed my eyes and consulted with my inner wolf. She projected a wolf cub that had Mike’s face, then the cub grew, progressing from playful nipping and chasing to hunting. Her way of saying that Mike was no longer a puppy. In pack terms, he was demanding respect as he grew.

“You’re right, Mike,” I said. “I’m not your alpha. You’ll never be a were, never be part of my pack.”

His face fell, and he made to get up. “Then I’ll be leaving,” he said.

Would he really head out into that desert, where he would almost certainly die?

“Mike, please don’t go,” I said. Then, in a rush, “You’re not my packmate, but you’re my teammate. Hell, you’re the only person I can work magic around without fearing for my life.”

I pushed the knife back toward him. “I gave you this dagger because I need you. I might be able to do this by myself, but the odds are better with your help. Please take it back.”

After a moment, Mike picked up the dagger and my heart lifted. “I won’t quit right now. But we’re going to have a talk once we get back to Las Vegas.”

“Okay, we’ll have a talk. Until then, we concentrate on the mission.”

Mike gave me a strange look, then stepped over to his backpack and pulled out two tan-colored pouches—MREs.

He sat back down and offered me a choice. I took the beef brisket pouch, leaving him with the beef stew.

“I wouldn’t abandon you in the middle of a mission,” he finally said. “That would be crazy.”

I sighed in relief. “I’m so glad. Because—”

We spoke at the same time. “—you’d die without me.”

7

“You can’t be serious!” I blurted.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “You’re strong and fast, but you’re pasty white. A few hours in this sun would burn you to a crisp.”

I rolled up a sleeve and stuck my ‘pasty white’ arm out of the shade, exposing it to the morning sun. The skin on my forearm darkened immediately, settling at a Mediterranean olive tone. It looked like I had dipped my arm to the elbow in dark beige paint.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” said Mike. “Hell, I wish I could. I have to spend two hours a day in the sun to maintain my tan for missions like this.”

I pulled my arm back and rolled my sleeve down. I concentrated and the tan spread over my body. A tingle crept up my neck and across my cheeks as the tan spread.

“Not all werewolves can do this instant tan. Others have to do it the regular way. I learned some tricks from a kitsune shifter.”

“Okay, more tricks. You would still have problems getting to the target.”

I sniffed haughtily. “I could shift to wolf, wrap my body in cool air, and race through the day and night at a speed no human could match.”

“And shift back in Riyadh, a naked woman with no documents who can’t speak a word of Arabic.” Mike scoffed and took a bite of his MRE. “You’d be lucky to end up in an insane asylum.”

My wolf side projected an image of me in a straitjacket, bare bottom hanging out. Smart-ass wolf.

I turned my attention back to Mike. His smile was disconcerting. “Are you enjoying this argument?” I asked.

He shook his head. “This isn’t an argument. Teams do this all the time. One guy tosses out an idea and the next guy tries to shoot it down. It’s how we find the flaws in our plans.” He squinted in puzzlement. “How do wolf packs operate?”

“Generally, they all follow the alpha’s plan. We have more of a top-down structure.”

“Well, since you said we’re teammates, not packmates, we should do this my way.”

“Fine. Toss out your idea and I’ll shoot it down.”

“We need help, some backup,” he said.

“Yeah,” I snapped. “Only our backup got blown up, and I just sent our only Arabic-speaking team member on a walkabout through the desert.”

“Good point,” said Mike. “My Arabic is grade-school level, at best. Probably shouldn’t have put all of our eggs in that basket.”

I felt smug for a second, then contrite. With no backup our mission was over, and the hostages would die.

“Okay, Mike. I screwed up by not having a backup plan.”

“Good thing you’re with me.” Mike reached into his backpack and pulled out a bulky device.

“What’s that?”

“A satellite phone and our backup plan. I reached out to an old friend and set up a fallback.”

Mike spent several minutes texting. Then he pulled out a map and made some notes. It was a geological survey map, but all the writing was in Arabic.

Mike set the map down and went back to texting.

I pulled the map closer to get a look at our location. Werewolves aren’t big on maps—we guide ourselves by the location of the moon and the sun, much more accurately than a GPS could. But this map was