Wolf Pact: A Wolf Pact Novel by Melissa de La Cruz

knuckles. “My brothers and I escaped from the pack a year ago, and we’ve been hiding and running ever since. We’ll never be hounds, not if I can help it.” He thought of Tala for a moment, wondered if those were empty words, remembered all his friends who were still left behind. “The masters turn wolf cubs into hellhounds on their eighteenth moon day. We had to run before we were turned.”
    “Right,” Bliss said, and her tone of voice told him everything he needed to know. She didn’t believe a word he’d said. That made two of them. Ex-vampire indeed. He gunned the engine and steered the car back to the road, and no one spoke until they reached the cave.

S IXTEEN
     
    “A rthursays it’s a show cave from the 1960s,” the younger boy—Malcolm—was telling her. Bliss followed them out of the car and inside a dark cavern. She didn’t see that she had a choice for now. She was their hostage, even if the older one—Lawson—didn’t want to admit it. She only hoped he would take her to Jane; at least they would be together.
    Bliss wasn’t sure she believed his story about not being a hellhound. Even though she’d witnessed his wrath at being called such, she knew he’d meant to hurt her back at the butcher shop.
Hellhounds are uncontrollable, violent, and vicious
—yeah, he’d been all that.
    Lawson. She hated him a little for being so strong—she was jealous, she supposed. She used to be a vampire, immortal, powerful; now she was just an ordinary girl with two broken legs. Bliss was annoyed with herself as well, for even noticing that he was attractive—handsome, with a strong jaw, a high forehead, and thick, dark hair. He was a killer—she’d seen it in his eyes. He was dangerous, brutal. She would have to watch her step around him—why had she told him so much about herself? Best not to reveal anything more, she decided.
    The cavern was one long space that wound in an arc like the crescent of the moon, with a makeshift kitchen in the middle and a few scattered and dark utility rooms off to the side. Bliss followed Malcolm, who was still talking. “Arthur said back then they didn’t care about preserving natural beauty, instead they put in linoleum and charged admission, whatever that means. But they’ve got some cool exhibits in the back.”
    “Who’sArthur?” she asked.
    “He sort of … takes care of us—he moved here after the attack. Thought it would be safer if the hounds returned.”
    “The hounds? They attacked you too? Why?”
    Bliss noticed Lawson giving his brother a hard look, and Malcolm grew quiet. She looked around at her new surroundings. The whole place smelled of mold and dust; it made her nose run and her eyes water. The cavern was cold and humid, like a basement with a broken steam pipe.
    “We’reback,” Lawson called as they approached three figures sitting by the fire. “This is Bliss Llewellyn. We found her in the shop. That’s Arthur,” he said, pointing to an old gentleman in the corner, who smiled at her gently. “That’s Rafe,” he said, pointing to the stockier boy. “And that’s Edon.”
    Bliss greeted them with a nod. None of them seemed to be surprised to see her. They must have known about the trap back at the butcher shop. She gazed at the four boys together. There was something savage and untamed about all of them, but something fierce and splendid as well. If Lawson was handsome, with the rugged good looks of a frontier cowboy, Edon was beautiful—his features were just a little finer, with an aristocratic cast, deep violet eyes and golden hair. Rafe was olive-skinned and almond-eyed; built like a rock, his body looked as if it could stop a Mack truck, but he had a sweet smile.
    The boys were dressed appallingly. Their clothing was dirty, too small or too big, mismatched, and oddly chosen. Malcolm was wearing a yellow hooded sweatshirt, green corduroys, and pink Crocs. Rafe wore a flannel shirt and worn tuxedo pants. Edon, for all his hauteur