The Somerset Series: A Box Set: Books 2-4 Read online

  "He's really not as bad as you think, you know," Abigail said, her voice holding a subtle glint of hesitancy in it. "I mean, he can be very intimidating, but he's really one of the best leaders this pack has ever seen."

  "I'm not intimidated by him," Bridgette said, almost defensively, looking at Abigail once again. "I mean, I know that sounds weird and everything, but for some reason, he doesn't really scare me. I can't explain why."

  "It's because of the bite," Abigail explained, her chin tilting up as if to point to the place on her neck. "The bite causes a lot of biological and emotional changes in you."

  "So I don't even get to choose if I fall in love with him or not?" Bridgette asked in disbelief.

  "The bite cannot cause someone to love you or not," Abigail explained with patience. "But it causes basic instincts to heighten. You may feel the need to procreate with him –" Here, Bridgette blushed – "Or you may feel jealous if another woman wants him for herself even though you have no emotional connection with him whatsoever. I'm not sure how the whole thing works, especially not when it concerns humans, but…" Here she paused, cocking her head slightly to the side before smiling. "But I think that Marcus chose you for a reason, even though I am most definitely not aware of what that is."

  "I miss my job," Bridgette murmured, her forehead resting on the cool surface of the window. She didn’t want to talk about Marcus and any feelings she had regarding the wolf. She just wanted to return to her normal life, go back to work, be the independent young woman she was known to be.

  "You worked at NDS, didn't you?" Abigail asked, sincerely interested in working at such a place.

  Bridgette nodded. "And I was damn good at it," she said. "In fact, it was only coming here did I fail at something. I let myself get cornered and then even with an opportunity to escape, I got caught once again. And now here I am. Also, everyone I know probably hates me in some way…" She let her voice trail off, her thoughts suddenly emphasizing her statement. She hadn’t really put much thought into how others would respond to her change but know that the subject had been broached… As much as she wanted to be sure of her colleagues and friends, she wasn’t. Didn’t know how they’d treat her, once she did change...

  "Why would they hate you?" Abigail questioned, pushing her brows together.

  "Because of what I am," Bridgette murmured, though oddly enough, there was no detection of bitterness laced within her words. "Because of what I'm going to become."

  "I don't understand," the red head said, shaking her head. "If they are your friends, they should stick with you through your worst and your best. They wouldn't just abandon you if you changed into one of us, would they?"

  Bridgette shrugged. "I don't know," she said, her voice soft, unsure. "But even if they did, I have to get out of here. I can't stay, stuck in here, trapped like some kind of animal. I need my freedom. I have to escape." She looked back out the window, into the seemingly endless forest. It was getting dark, and shadows started to emerge.

  Abigail sighed. “Maybe Marcus would be able to change your mind,” she said, her voice hopeful. “You just have to give him a chance, Miss Barker. Surely your pride isn’t more important than your life.”

  14

  Bridgette was staring up at the ceiling, lying flat on her bed with her hands behind her head. Her ice-blue eyes were heavy, but for some reason, she wasn't tired. Though she was still dressed in her pajamas from the day before, she had thrown a pair of silky black pants on top to keep her bare legs warm. The answer to her current dilemma wasn't scrawled up on the high ceiling, but she still searched, hoping she would get hit by a sudden bout of inspiration from somewhere. All the while, she tried to ignore what Abigail had told her a few hours ago. Speaking of which, what time was it anyway? She didn't know, and she wasn't sure she cared. One look outside told her it had to be around midnight, maybe even later.

  But that didn't matter.

  She needed to escape. But the question is, how?

  Every time she tried to think on the matter, Abigail's voice would come back into Bridgette's head, echoing throughout her thoughts.

  "But I think that Marcus chose you for a reason, even though I am most definitely not aware of it." That's what Abigail had told her, and there was such conviction in the she-wolf's voice that it was hard for Bridgette to doubt her, except…

  Except that it didn't make sense.

  Why her? Out of every she-wolf and woman he could have, why would he knowingly bite her?

  Bridgette suddenly closed her eyes, trying to think back to when she had to take sociology classes at the Nocturnal Defense Society's Academy. "Okay Bridge," she murmured silently to herself, trying not to focus too hard. "Think, think, think…"

  She remembered the textbook she had to read, and she remembered the section specifically dedicated to werewolves, but even though she graduated a few years ago, so many things had changed. New knowledge of both the vampire and werewolf race was being discovered every day. In fact, she assisted in one of the discoveries; apparently a knick from an Alpha male was equal to a full-on transformation bite coming from a pack member.

  But there had to be something she could recall concerning when a werewolf chose his mate.

  "A werewolf chooses a mate in three seconds upon which he sees his desire. There are times when phasing takes a while for a particular couple, and it could possibly take years to make that realization. However, biologically, mates can be chosen as quickly as three seconds. If such a thing does happen at such an increased rate, the chemical transferred from the male to the female enhances the female's emotions, and as a result, the two are usually consumed in passion. It would be the equivalent of two humans indulging in a passionate relationship before they come to the conclusion that they love each other. However, love is an emotion that comes at an accelerated rate when it concerns werewolves. Love at first sight is quite literal for this culture, and though it can be impossible for humans to understand, the feeling should be respected…"

  She almost laughed at the notion that Marcus Sterling could be in love with her. But then, what if he didn't know it? Could that mean that she didn't know she was in love with him?

  Suddenly, Bridgette's head started to hurt, and as a result, she couldn't hear the distant howling. She reached up and gripped the side of her head gently with her palms, shaking her head as though to rid her mind of all the thoughts that were currently plaguing her.

  Why her? Why was it that she had to endure all of this alone?

  It wasn't fair.

  Then Abigail's words came back to her. "If they are your friends, they should stick with you through your worst and your best. They wouldn't just abandon you if you changed into one of us, would they?"

  Maybe a good reason why Bridgette was so emotional was the fact that she couldn't answer that question. She liked to believe that no matter what, Clive and Kendall would stand by her side, even if she was going to transform into a werewolf. But she couldn't be sure, and that was what upset her the most. She should be sure when it involved her friends' loyalty, but she wasn't.

  She needed to get out of here. If she was going to have to deal with this by herself, she'd rather be alone than with a group of wolves she didn't even know. She couldn't do anything if she stayed upstairs, lying on the bed, waiting for an idea to miraculously pop into her mind. She had to be active and assertive.

  Bridgette found herself slowly start to get motivated and she felt herself start to sit up. She turned her body so her legs were over the bed, dangling off the edge. She slid down until they hit the wooden floor, and then headed over to the wardrobe. After a few minutes of searching, she finally pulled out a pair of beige boots and a warm faux-leather jacket. Paired with the pajamas, her outfit looked ridiculous. She didn't even want to check herself out in the mirror, knowing her hair was probably a mess among other things.

  Instead, her focus shifted to the fact that if she could just make it to the door without alerting anyone, she could dash off, get
into her car, and drive away before anyone could stop her. When she felt that she was ready, she opened the door, only to find Julianne, the wolf she had met a few days ago, poised and ready to knock.

  "Oh," the wolf said, throwing Bridgette a dazzling smile before shifting her shoulder so her ebony colored locks slipped against her back. "Hi. I was just about to knock. I want to talk to you."

  Bridgette narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. Before she could say anything, Julianne slipped inside the room and shut the door behind her. Bridgette's eyes widened at the act, her body tensing as if the wolf in front wanted to attack her.

  Julianne recognized Bridgette's stance and rolled her eyes. "Calm down, silly," she chided, waving a dismissing hand. "I'm not here to fight you, if that's what you think. Like I said, I wanted to talk to you."

  "What, exactly, do you want to talk to me about?" Bridgette asked in a low voice. She really did try to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

  Julianne smiled though the dark grin did not quite reach her crystallized blue eyes. "I wanted to know if you want to get away from here," she murmured in a soft voice. "I can't say too much about it because wolves, especially Alpha males, have sharp hearing."

  "Why would you help me escape?" Bridgette asked, still unsure but hopeful at the same time. She made sure her voice was as soft as Julianne's, wanting nothing more than to take the dark haired beauty up on her offer.

  "I'm going to be honest, Bridgette," Julianne said. "I want Marcus for myself. I've loved him ever since I can remember, and, no offense, but I think it should be a pure wolf on his arm rather than one who will be turned. Since you're here, I may not get that chance. But I know you don't want to be here, so I figured maybe I could help you and you could help me." She suddenly raised her right hand and Bridgette noticed a ring of keys hanging on Julianne's index finger. "What do you say?"

  Bridgette swallowed, trying to regain her determination, before she nodded once, choosing to stay silent. She reached out and took the keys from the she-wolf before sliding them into her jacket pocket.

  Julianne smiled. "I thought so," she said before turning around and opening the door. "Now follow me and be sure you keep quiet."

  Julianne led Bridgette down the stairs. If Bridgette was walking beside her, she might have noticed that Julianne's smile wasn't a smile at all, but rather a smirk. However, Bridgette was desperate, and this was the only line that the fates decided to throw at her, so she decided to take her chances.

  Oddly enough, the house was quiet, as though it was deserted. Bridgette put no credence into it. She didn't particularly care where everyone was, just that she was getting out.

  Julianne led her through the kitchen but stopped abruptly at a wooden door. "I can't go out," she hastily explained, taking a step behind Bridgette. "They'll know if I'm gone, but if you just…" She let her voice trail off as Bridgette twisted the knob and opened it.

  Instead of freedom, there was a hungry pack of wolves. When they saw – when they smelled – Bridgette, they started growling and snapping their teeth, their eyes narrowing in the human's direction. She started to back up but Julianne prevented her from doing so. In fact, the she-wolf reached out and thrust Bridgette towards the pack of wolves before quickly shutting the door and locking it, laughing as she did so.

  15

  Bridgette's life should have flashed before her eyes. In fact, she could barely blink let alone reach up and defend herself. All she could hear was the snapping of the wolves' jaws. All she could see were the brown beasts moving closer and closer towards her. Her legs were shaky, but they managed to take a couple steps back, hoping to find the door opened. When her back hit the wood, however, she knew she was stuck. She was trapped, and, undoubtedly, she was going to die.

  It was odd, her body's reaction to such a thing. She could feel her muscles tense, preparing herself for something, though she wasn't quite sure as to what that was. She wasn't crying but she knew she needed to. Bridgette, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to release the stress causing her muscles to constrict together tightly, but she was in such a state of shock that the tears would not release themselves; they were stuck. They were nonexistent.

  And then, like a slow-motion sequence from a movie, someone pushed her out of the way. Not someone; rather, something. Before she could get a good look at whomever – whatever – saved her, she crashed onto the ground, hard. She bit back a grunt of pain and blinked again, hoping to rid the tears and the dirt that now speckled the rim of her eyes. She quickly reached up and wiped them away, but she wasn't concentrating; her eyes were solely focused on what was taking place right in front of her.

  It was a wolf – she could tell now that she was out of the way and her mind was working, that it was indeed a wolf, and if she was being specific, she figured it was a werewolf.

  It was probably the most amazing thing she had ever seen in her entire life. Though there were five or six other wolves, the werewolf that had saved her took each of them in stride. Each one came in to attack him but with one snap of his paws, long claws erected, it slashed across their face. It felt like an hour, maybe even two, but in reality, the fight took no longer than seven minutes. What Bridgette could not tell, however, was whether or not the wolves that tried to attack her were werewolves or not.

  It didn't matter.

  The beasts were whimpering now, nursing each other's wounds. With one glare from the werewolf, they all disappeared into the night.

  It was then that Bridgette noticed how heavy the werewolf was breathing. He turned and looked her in the eyes; she was caught for a moment. She recognized those hazel eyes. Could it be -?

  Her eyes took in the cuts on his body, and without fully realizing what she was doing; she reached out and gently rubbed his head. Then, before her very eyes, she watched him transform into none other than Marcus Sterling, the man who had brought her here. He was completely nude, but she didn't seem to notice. All that mattered was getting him inside, getting him warm, and cleaning up his wounds.

  "We have to get you inside," she told him, shifting her position in order to stand up. She reached down and helped him up; it was more difficult than she originally anticipated due to the fact that he was taller than she was by nearly a foot, and had more muscles than she could count. "We have to get you cleaned up."

  Marcus nodded and allowed Bridgette to help him up. Normally, he was a very prideful wolf and whenever he came back from runs, he wouldn't let anybody treat him if he was wounded. However, for whatever reason, he felt comfortable enough with Bridgette to allow her to take control of this matter. She grabbed his arm delicately and wrapped it around her shoulder. Then, to the best of her abilities, she tried to support his weight and match his stride, and wrapped her arm around his bare waist in order to aide him.

  Bridgette struggled as she assisted Marcus back to the house, but she managed to hold her own. She didn’t want him to see her falter, so she pushed her lips into a tight, white line and tensed her muscles to continue to take the brunt of his weight. Marcus reached out and typed in a key code into a security system Bridgette hadn’t even noticed. The door popped open automatically and she led him into the kitchen. When they reached the marble sink counter, she paused. "I'm going to get you some pants," she told him. For whatever reason, it did not bother her in the slightest that he was completely naked. All that mattered was that he was going to be okay. It was as though she had completely forgotten the fact that she was angry at him. And maybe she wasn't anymore. She just needed to take care of him. "You stay here. I'll be right back."

  Marcus didn't say anything. Instead, he nodded, trying to catch his breath and ignore the pain.

  It didn't take Bridgette long to find Marcus's room, and she grabbed the first pair of pajama pants she could find. While Marcus was putting them on, Bridgette was searching the kitchen for some kind of first aid kit, a bowl of warm water, and two towels. They were a pack of wolves; they had to have the materials for such wounds. A f
ew moments later, Bridgette had everything she needed. He was modest by the time she returned, his palms flat on the edge of the counter, causing his shoulders to hunch up.

  Bridgette turned on the kitchen light, getting a good look at his torso and the damage that was done. There was nothing on his chest except a few scratches, but when she walked around him, she saw a good portion of deep cuts. She frowned at this and dipped one of the towels in the warm water. The first thing she concentrated on was wiping the blood that was already starting to dry away.

  "Okay," she murmured in a soothing voice, glancing over her shoulder. "This may hurt."

  Again, Marcus didn't say anything, but he tilted his head away to signal that he had heard. Bridgette bit her bottom lip and as gently as she could, placed the rag on his back. She heard him breathe in sharply and grip the counter tighter. For whatever reason, Bridgette placed her free hand on his bare shoulder in hopes it might calm him down and soothe him in some way.

  "Are you okay?" he asked in his gravelly voice, his tone deeper than normal due to his strained concentration on breathing.

  "I'm fine," Bridgette replied softly. Her body burst into warmth at his consideration, but she pushed the feeling away, hoping to concentrate on the task at hand. "All I have are a few cuts. Nothing serious."

  She continued to clean the wound before applying rubbing alcohol. That caused Marcus to roar, and Bridgette smacked him on the arm.

  "Be quiet," she told him, furrowing her brows. "You don't want to wake everyone up, do you?"

  Marcus said nothing, but he didn't roar again. Instead, he growled each time the ointment was applied, and she could tell he was trying to keep a hold of his anger. "Would you hurry?" he asked through gritted teeth.

  "I need to get everything clean so you don't get an infection," she told him in the same voice, her icy eyes freezing though she was merely staring at his back. For a moment, she was suddenly transfixed by it, the muscles rippling with each twitch. Strong, sturdy… For whatever reason, Bridgette allowed her fingertips to gently follow the curve of his spine, needing to touch him in some way. She could feel him shudder in response, and she gulped, blinking her eyes to refocus her attention.