Chapter 34
Jamie
The climb up the cliff face was cruel work, with all the loose shale under our boots, the wind whipping salt into our eyes, and the crash of the Irish Sea pounding below like it wanted to drag us all under.
By the time we reached the top of the ridge, my hands were cut raw, and my mood was no better.
The mystery lass—hood up now, dark hair roped back and tucked in against the wind—led us with the kind of confidence that made me grind my teeth.
She hadn’t offered me a name yet, and I hadn’t pressed, but it gnawed at me.
Who was she to stalk across an island like she owned it, dragging four of her own wolves plus me along behind her?
She crouched low near a patch of tangled grass. “Here,” she said, her voice a blade’s edge. She pulled back the brush, and sure enough, there was a vent grate, half-rusted, still sweating warm air. “This runs into the old maintenance corridors. It’s pretty narrow, but it’ll keep us hidden.”
Nox crouched down, his knives gleaming faint in the morning light as he tested the grate. “Bolts are rotted. We can get in quiet, if we’re careful.”
Eamon muttered under his breath, “Quiet isn’t Griff’s specialty.”
I snorted.
We worked in silence, easing the grate up and off. The air that rolled out was warm and stale, tinged with antiseptic and steel, but there was something else in it too and it made the back of my throat ache and itch.
It was her. And she was in heat. What the fuck?
Sera’s scent was faint at first, just a thread on the air, but enough to make my wolf sit straight up inside me. I swallowed hard and tried to ignore it.
Focus on the mission. That was the plan.
The vent swallowed us one at a time as we crawled belly-first through the shaft.
The metal groaned under our weight, every scrape seeming loud in the silence.
I pulled myself along behind Bishop, the mystery woman moving ahead of him with the kind of fluid ease that made me wonder just how many times she’d done this before.
The air grew thicker the deeper we went. That faint thread of Sera’s scent grew stronger, until it was in my lungs, my blood, and my head. Heat and spice, the kind that hit the back of your tongue and made your pulse hammer.
I gritted my teeth. Not now. Not here.
Griff’s voice whispered back from up ahead. “You smell that?”
Nox’s laugh was low and dangerous. “Oh, we smell it.”
Bishop’s shoulders tightened as he crawled. “Stay focused.”
But it was getting harder. My nails bit into the metal, scraping as I pulled myself forward.
My breath had gone ragged. The vent stank of rust and dust, but all I could smell was her.
All I could feel was her, like she was pressed against my skin even though she was still locked gods-knew-where inside this cursed rock.
We dropped into a maintenance gallery, narrow catwalks stretched over pipes and cable guts. The air was warmer here, and heavy with her scent. My chest felt too tight.
“She’s close,” I muttered, voice rough.
The others turned, eyes flashing in the gloom.
“Buchanan,” Bishop said, a clear warning in his tone. “Keep your head.”
“I am,” I snapped, though we all knew it was a lie. My wolf prowled under my skin, restless, hungry, and ready to tear steel apart just to reach her.
The woman stepped close, her eyes pale and unflinching. “Jamie. Look at me.”
I did, and for a heartbeat, the haze cleared. Then the scent hit me again, harder, and I staggered, hand against the wall.
“Shit,” I hissed, dragging air into my lungs. “It’s too strong. My mate.”
“You’re losing control,” Bishop said.
“I’m not—” I started, but the growl in my voice betrayed me. My claws were sliding free without me even willing it, scraping sparks from the railing.
The woman sighed like I was a child who’d disappointed her. “I was afraid something like this would happen.”
I blinked at her, confused, then felt a sting in my arse.
“Ow! Bloody hell!” I yelped, hand flying back. My fingers brushed a dart jutting out of my backside. “What the fuck?”
Griff’s laugh echoed off the walls, bright and booming. “She darted you in the arse, mate!”
Nox actually grinned with satisfaction. “Perfect shot.”
Eamon muttered, “You’re lucky it wasn’t double the dose.”
I spun, face hot, wolf snarling inside me, but already feeling sluggish, heavy. “You shot me? In the arse?”
The woman lowered the pistol, expression calm as ice. “You were a liability. Now you’re not.”
I yanked the dart free, scowling. “I’ll not sit down for a week, you know that?”
“Good,” she said without blinking. “Maybe it will remind you to keep your focus next time.”
Griff was still chuckling, slapping his thigh. “Never thought I’d see it—a ranger like you dropped by a dart in the arse.”
I glared at him, then at her, then at the others. My ass throbbed like hell, my pride even more so, but for some reason, I felt more like myself again.
I muttered, “You’ll pay for that, lass.”
She was already moving, though, slipping into the shadows of the corridor ahead, leaving me to limp after them with a sore arse and the echo of Griff’s laughter in my ears.
“Right then, mystery lass,” I growled under my breath, keeping my voice quiet. “What exactly did you just shoot me with?”
She didn’t even glance back as she continued walking on the grated walkway. “A leveler.”
“A what?”
“A pheromone blocker,” she said simply, as if we were discussing tea. “Designed to dull the pull when wolves get a whiff of their mate in heat. It scrambles the receptor response in your brain, keeps you from tearing your own pack apart for the sake of one woman.”
I blinked, caught between outrage and reluctant admiration. “You had that ready? Just lying in your pocket?”
She gave the faintest shrug. “I don’t walk into nests without contingency plans. Especially when wolves are involved.”
Griff barked another laugh behind me. “That’s what you get for losing your head, Jamie-boy. She’s carrying darts for horny mutts like you.”
“Shut it,” I mumbled, though my ears burned.
Nox’s grin was all teeth. “Smart. Very smart. A single wolf in heat-frenzy can ruin a mission for everyone. Better sore-arsed and calm than foaming at the mouth.”
I glared at him. “I was just momentarily distracted.”
Bishop gave me a look colder than the metal under our feet. “Distracted gets us killed.”
“Aye, thanks for the lecture,” I snapped, though feeling humbled now.
Truth was I felt the difference already.
The haze was lifting, the desperate itch in my chest settling.
The scent was still there, still pulling, but muted, dulled, like it was behind glass.
My wolf growled low at being leashed, but my head cleared enough to breathe normally.
Eamon’s voice came from the back, calm and matter of fact. “The blocker will keep you level for a few hours, maybe less depending on your metabolism. When it wears off, if we haven’t found her yet…”
I grunted. “Let me guess: another dart to the arse.”
The woman finally looked back at me then, pale eyes unblinking. “If I have to.”
For a heartbeat, I wanted to snarl at her, tell her she had no right, but then I caught Sera’s scent again and realized she was right. She’d saved me from myself and probably saved the mission.
I huffed a laugh, low and grudging. “Fine. But next time, warn a man before you stick him.”
Her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “You’d have argued.”
“Damn right I would’ve,” I said, rubbing the ache in my backside. “But at least I’d have braced for it.”
Griff nearly doubled over, laughing so hard under his breath he had to press his hand against the wall for balance. “The great Jamie Buchanan, terror of the highlands, felled by a dart in the arse!”
Nox smirked. “Not exactly the ballad they’ll be singing around the fire, is it?”
Bishop just shook his head. “A liability neutralized.”
I scowled, rubbing my sore cheek that felt like I’d sat on a hedgehog. “Aye, laugh it up. I can see it now. You’ll be old and gray, and you’ll look back on this moment, and you’ll say to yourselves, ‘Ah, remember the time we laughed at the dart in Jamie’s arse?’”
Griff wheezed, wiping at his eyes. “Best day of my life.”
I jabbed a finger at him. “Keep it up, and it’ll also be the last.”
Eamon piped up from the rear, voice perfectly calm with no trace of irony. “Medically speaking, the dart site will be tender for several days. Sitting, climbing, possibly even walking may cause discomfort.” He paused. “You may want to sleep on your stomach.”
Griff struggled to contain himself at that one, gasping and snorting as he leaned against the wall like he couldn’t breathe.
The lass leading us didn’t even turn around, just muttered, “Quiet down. You sound like children fighting over sweet rolls.”
“Sweet rolls don’t usually come with tranquilizer darts,” I grumbled.
Griff was still chuckling, his shoulders shaking. “A dart in the arse, Jamie. You’ll never live this down. Never. You’ll be ninety, sitting down by the fire, and I’ll still be reminding you.”
“Aye, if you live that long,” I muttered, giving him a side-eye.
Nox slid one of his knives back into its sheath with a smirk. “Could’ve been worse. She could’ve darted you in the front.”
We kept moving.
We walked single file, the Jane Doe up front with Bishop.
Nox striding behind them, Griff hulking a step behind me, and Eamon trailing silent with his medic’s bag bumping his hip.
My nostrils flared with every breath. The air down here was stale with disinfectant, gun oil, and damp stone…
but threaded through all of it was my Sera.
“Left,” Bishop whispered, pausing at a junction.
We crouched down, hugging the wall of a maintenance tunnel. A patrol clattered by down an intersecting hallway, visors down, rifles slung ready, boots striking loudly against the floor. Watch soldiers. They passed without looking our way.
Nox’s knife twitched once in his hand. “Could’ve taken them,” he murmured.