Claimed by the Beast(9)

"So there's a chance you will?"

"I don't know, Elijah. What happened those eight years … ?"

Elijah was out of patience. "Fuck the eight years!" he said, raising his  voice. "She needs you here. I need you here! There's no reason for you  not to be here with your family. Your mate. What happened to you, to us,  it happened. And now it's over. You only have to decide to let it go  and let the past be the past."

"It's not that easy. It never has been. I'm a different person, Elijah."

"I've got news for you, little brother. I'm a different person too. So  is Kayla, so is Rachel. Hell, you haven't even met your niece!"

"I'm sorry … "

"No, don't fucking say you're sorry. Rachel and you are bonded, you  belong together. There's nothing either of you can do about it. She  can't let you go any more than you can let her go. You staying away is  hurting her. It's not good for her. I can hear it's not good for you  either. Just …  Marcus, just come home. Please."                       
       
           



       

Elijah's chest tightened at that. For eight years, he had believed  Marcus dead. Just when he thought he would have his little brother, the  last of his pack, back again, Marcus ran. He couldn't get beyond what  had happened to him. As much as Elijah could understand that, he also  knew what the right thing to do now was, and Marcus was not doing that.

"When's the last time you shifted?" Elijah asked.

"A long time ago," Marcus replied.

"At least check in with me every now and then. Put my mind at ease. Let me know you're not fucking dead."

"I'm sorry, Elijah."

Elijah looked at Kayla who sat staring at him, at his daughter who slept in her arms.

"Tell Rachel I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt her."

"Tell her yourself. That girl is broken up over you. She doesn't know  right from wrong anymore and she's suffering. Come home. Just come  home."

It was silent for a long time before Marcus finally spoke again. "I'm sorry," he said and the line went dead.

Elijah stayed on for a minute longer hoping Marcus hadn't hung up yet.

"Are you okay?" Kayla asked him, concern in her eyes as she touched a hand to his.

He shoved the phone into his pocket and gathered her and the baby up in  his arms. He held them tight, taking in the smell of Kayla's hair. "I  love you, Kayla," he said.

She hugged him back with her one free arm. "Me too."

He let her go and stood back, looking down at her. "I don't understand  why he won't come back. If for nothing else then for Rachel. But he  won't do it. He hasn't shifted in a long time, that's why we can't hear  him anymore."

"But he heard the scream you and Rachel heard?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes. Let's go over there. She was scared and I don't want to leave her alone any longer than we have to."

"What do you think it was?"

"I'm not sure."

"Another shifter?" Kayla asked.

He didn't want her to feel frightened. "I don't know."

She looked at him for a while and he knew she knew he was more than a  little worried, but she dropped it. "Are you going to tell Rachel about  Marcus calling?"

"Yes. At least she can know he's not dead. Maybe if she were angry at him it would help her to get over him."

"Is that possible? I mean, I don't know how this works but they're mates. You said so yourself."

"I don't know Kayla. She's not in a healthy place right now though, and if he's not coming back, she needs to move on."

"I'll just grab Clarissa's bag and we'll be ready to go."

"I'll get the bag," he said, pulling her close and kissing the top of  her head once before letting her go. He then collected the baby's bag  and they headed out.



* * *



When Lance opened his eyes, all he could see was the warm light of the  rising sun through the thick tree cover. He slowly sat up and looked  around, trying to figure out where he was. He was naked, his hands and  body bloodied. The source of that blood lay mutilated next to him.

"Christ," he swore, standing. He turned his head away, feeling nauseous  at the site of the dead animal, the head of the large deer torn from its  body, truly ripped off. The limbs were in a similar state and some part  of its gut had been hollowed out, the marks of another animal's teeth  clear on the carcass.

Animal.

Lance stumbled away and listened. Hearing the source of water, he walked  toward it and once at the lake, he knelt to wash himself. But before he  did, he caught his reflection. Dried blood covered most of his face and  something more than that was caked in his hair. His neck and chest were  smeared with the stuff and, although the temperature was below  freezing, he walked into the water and when he could no longer stand, he  dove beneath the surface and washed himself, unable to ignore the  evidence before him any longer. He broke the surface, coming up for air,  and would have screamed but he did not want to alert anyone to his  presence, not knowing where exactly he was or how close to civilization.

Once he was washed, he walked out of the water. The sun had come high in  the sky now and he slowly walked back to the carcass to find whatever  evidence he could to tell him what had happened the night before. To  tell him where he was. One thing he could no longer ignore, the one  thing he had been trying to avoid but knew was the only answer to what  had been happening was now unavoidable. The serum had worked on his  disease, banishing it from his body, curing him, healing him in a way  that was, in one word, inhuman.                       
       
           



       

But there was a dark side to this, a price to pay.

Was he becoming one of them? One of the shifters? Was what he had  injected himself with enough to not only heal him but also to change  him? And what did it mean for him now? How would this continue to  progress and would he have any conscious control over it? He thought  back on what had happened with Judy in his office. His animal instincts  had taken over. He'd had almost no control in what he had done. He  hadn't hurt her, thank goodness. But how far was this going to go? What  if next time, he did hurt someone?

Once the pain had come on, he had lost consciousness. He needed to  understand what happened to him during that time. He needed to face this  head on and he needed to do it alone. No one would help him; no one  could know.





Chapter Seven





Once home, Lance called the lab to say he wouldn't be in for the rest of  the week. His voice sounded hoarse enough that when the secretary took  his message, she wished him well and he was off the phone without having  to lie any more than absolutely necessary. He rubbed his eyes and  yawned, feeling drained and hungry. On his way to the kitchen, he  considered calling Dennison now, pushing his flight to Wayne  Laboratories out by a few weeks at least. But how far could he push it?  Dennison would want to know why. He would be harder to fool given the  fact he knew more about the secret project Lance had been working on.

At the bottom of the stairs, he had to stop and grab hold of the  handrail when a moment of vertigo threatened his balance. He squeezed  his eyes shut until it passed and he was himself again. He walked into  the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, taking out a container of  juice. He drank directly from the carton but after a few sips, felt so  nauseous he had to set it down and grip the counter until it passed. He  couldn't stomach the thought of coffee or toast. Actually, the only  thing he could think about was the meat he'd bought the other day that  was sitting in its packaging in the refrigerator. He opened the door and  took it out. Knowing he should feel disgusted, he unwrapped it and  picked up the thick slab of bloody flesh. He began to salivate as he  brought it to his mouth and tore off a bite. With a grunt, he chewed and  swallowed, feeling strong, feeling satisfied. He took another bite,  then another until the meat was gone. He cleaned up the counter and  washed his hands, determined to forget that he'd just eaten a slab of  raw meat with the enthusiasm of a starved animal. Instead, he made a  list of what he would need to pick up at the hardware store to secure  his home lab from himself and headed out.

On his way, he dialed Dennison's secretary. He would just keep it  casual, say he couldn't get out of work that quickly. He would need a  month or so before he would be able to get to Wayne Labs. It would be  easier to talk to her than to him. He might suspect something was going  on and he neither liked nor trusted that Dennison had the best  intentions in mind for anyone other than Dennison. Lance's work would  make Wayne Labs and Dennison very rich. Well, richer than he already  was. But men like Dennison couldn't put a cap on their greed. The more  they got, the more they wanted. He would push Lance and Lance couldn't  take the chance he would find out what had happened to him.