Pawn Among Wolves Ch. 04

"Silver is total poison. The spear was silver etched - hence the chemo - our doctor's still leaching it out of me daily, it's hard to eradicate. But the body recognises it as poison, and goes into overdrive trying to get rid of it, or contain it. That's why the cold skin of my scar, Gem - the body creates a barrier around it."

She shivered in sympathy. So that was why that wound was still visible, when these on his wrists were already fading. He must have to open it every day to drain the poison - eugh. "Chemo?" she queried.

"Some poly that absorbs the silver. It's almost done, I'll be healed soon, and not so feeble" he rolled them onto his side and hugged her, nuzzling the back of her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin over his old bite.

Feeble??!!??

Damn, he was really managing to distract her now. She had to somehow -. Um. Say something. Sometime. Something. Anyth...

Much later, she recalled their conversation, and began to work on the knot again.

"Then Argen's not as bad as silver?" Her voice was a squeak again. Why couldn't she go sexily husky when breathless?.

"Argen -." he halted, and she could feel him tense into sudden stillness. Maybe she should leave this subject. His breath stopped entirely and she could feel him frozen, thinking, heart beating furiously and a flush of increased heat shimmering along his flesh. The hard, tight knot under her fingers finally gave way - and she began to carefully unwrap his healing wrist. He began to breathe again as she lifted off the cord.

"Gemma - do you know someone called Elaine Singleman?" A breath of gentle query. Incongruous. Unexpected. Exasperating change of subject.

What?

"What?"

"Do you know some-"

"Of course I know Professor Singleman, she's written half the papers on metals-."

"My people found out - it was her - I refused to biteher, so Nick set us up instead," the wolf curled around her murmured quietly over her sharp reply.

"-harvesting, but what on earth -?"

She broke off abruptly. Metals. Her own field. Gemma's heart started to pound, slowly, hard against her ribs. Nick carried a strip of this false Argen in his pocket, which could bring down an Alpha in pursuit; Nick had wanted Mac to bite a metals specialist. And then to bite her himself. Mac had warned her before that a new werewolf found it almost impossible to disobey - the relentless pursuit was beginning to make some sense now. A tremor began deep within her. Mac's heart, in contrast, was slowing back to peace.

They lay entwined together, the thoughts almost tangible, twisting in the air around them. Gemma was shivering despite his warmth, and Mac curled her closer in against his large, comforting form, brushing his fingers soothingly over her skin. He felt satisfied - now he knew why Nick was being so persistent in stalking Gemma. He could protect her. No worries.

He ignored the small voice inside himself querying why he was sopleasedthat he should have to keep this little human close.

"Argen," he began again on a soft rumble of sound, "even the feeble version you hold there, is a forbidden substance to wolves. Because it is a poison that the body does not recognise. A silent killer. We almost wiped ourselves out using true Argen in chemical warfare back in the Fire Wars. Since then it has been forbidden to possess any form of silver or alloy."

Poison.

But...

Another shudder rippled through Gemma's slight frame - this time of fury. "So why thehelldid you let me tie it around you?!" she hissed, incensed.

"It-."

"And don't youdaresay it was worth it," she snapped out.

He tucked her in tighter against him, a chuckle vibrating through his chest. "You and intimidating don't really fit into the same space, picchu." He dropped another kiss on her hair, which she failed signally to avoid. As she wasn't going anywhere. "And itwasworth it - oh, most absolutely, definitely, indescribablyworth it." His voice dropped deeper, growing slightly hoarse on the last phrase and Gemma's blood pulsed sweetly through her veins, stopping her breath. Damn.

Bad wolf.

The chuckle ran more strongly this time, and he engulfed her in his large figure, encircling her as he tightened his embrace to a full bear hug - a wolf hug- murmuring ticklish breath in her ear, laughter reverberating through his voice, "What did you call me?"

Damn. Said that aloud.

A whisper of a chuckle in her ear, "Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?"

A flash of memory - Nick's glittering, feral eyes as he glared hatred at her - and Gemma shuddered deeply, feeling the arms around her tighten almost unbearably.

They lay still for a moment, then his voice was sombre, heavy with promise. "I'll protect you from him, picchu - take a week off and I'll take you up to the Range. You'll heal fully in a week."

Overprotective. She could get used to it. Overly autocratic?

Gemma lifted her head and twisted in his now relaxed arms, to look down into those warm, welcoming green eyes.

"Say please," she challenged.

There was a short pause as they stared at each other, eyes smiling. Then his narrowed, and little bubbles of black fire rose to shimmer in the green irises as his lips twisted in a slow, dangerous smile. Gemma's breath caught, as he tangled his fingers in her hair, gently pulling her lips back down to his.

"Bet you say it first."

Oops.

Half an hour later, dry-mouthed and dreamy, Gemma was again lying in a boneless huddle on the floor, watching Mac. She didn't want to blink. He was smoothly, casually, pulling up those soft jeans and the material slid seductively, slowly up the rough-haired, taut planes of his thighs, strong muscles rippling in the light while he shifted weight from leg to leg. Abruptly he stiffened, lifted his head and tilted it, focus elsewhere, as a frown crossed his features. Then, before she could blink, he had bent, swiftly grabbed up his shirt and a couple of other scraps from the floor, and was out the door, buttoning up his trousers as he barked over his shoulder, "Stay here."

What now?She rolled over face down on the floor with a sigh.Bossyboots.

Gemma lingered as long as she could, enjoying the weightless sense of bliss floating in her limbs again, savouring the remainder of her recovery - he really didn't play fair, but hehadsaid please himself in the end too. And she wasn't averse to spending a week with him at this Range. A small smile curved her lips.

Eventually, she began to get cold, and slowly, reluctantly slithered back into her own clothes. They were remarkably in tact. But she wrinkled her nose. Boy did she need a shower. There were showers in the basement.

Mac still hadn't reappeared.

She worked out the tangles in her long dark hair as best she could with her fingers, then tiptoed over to the door, pleasantly aching, and listened.

Nothing.

It was beginning to get faintly unsettling. And irritating. She cracked the door open a little and listened again. There was a murmur of distant voices, rising and falling in heated discussion, away down the stairs, and she crept closer to the stairwell, listening intently for the cultured vowels of the grey wolf. Sometimes she caught the echo of Mac's voice, low, responding with a calm phrase to the accusatory tones of the others. No-one else she recognised.

Gemma hesitated at the top of the steps, but her blood was shimmering a call, left-over from their play, and she wanted to be down there. Wanted to be with Mac. She also wanted to find out more of what was going on - she could almost catch the words from down here- the tenor was definitely accusatory, but she couldn't make out anything clearly. She needed toknow.

Her socks made no sound on the stairs as she crept downward, boots in hand, ready to swing them if necessary. An increasing crescendo of angry noise covered her approach as the rumble of voices grew more bitter, staccato. Then she turned the bottom corner towards the door at the base of the stairwell and abruptly the stormy words were clear.

"... further action? How is that possible when some of Tzo's have been caught using this stuff, and now we find you in Marsh territory with a whole -," the sharp male voice cut off abruptly, and Gemma froze, caught, as the door below her whooshed open and the stairwell light flashed on, illuminating her stricken face. A tall, dark, clean-shaven, craggy man of around 50, dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose ski-jacket over a rugged shirt, stood in the doorway, smiling up at her reassuringly.

"Oh, hi, honey. Sorry if we alarmed you, we didn't realise there was anyone still in the building. We're here for the conference and were just looking around with Dr. Mayn-." Abruptly, he cut off the smooth explanation, eyes zeroing in on the mottling on her neck as he sniffed the air loudly. Gemma managed not to squeak as the next second he was beside her, and a warm, immovable clasp had closed around her forearm. He had leaped up over the banister railing before she had a chance to blink -moving with the same graceful, powerful fluency as Mac.

"Satan," he swore, and then as she blinked again, her other arm was also clamped in a hold, the cool air rushed past and she was placed gently on her feet in the entrance-way, beside a tense circle of seeming humans. "Look what I found," the male holding her added.

There were four other people in the hall besides Mac, Gemma, and her escort, all facing her old flatmate with various levels of aggression in their stances. The older woman in the centre was sleek, tall, and blonde, standing relaxed, a cold glint in her cornflower blue eyes and a faint look of amusement on her beautifully preserved face as she tapped the fingers of her left hand on her cheek, eyeing Mac.

Antagonism reverberated off the heavily-built 30-ish platinum-haired male to the woman's left, fury shooting from his wide-set eyes as he glared at Gemma's former flatmate. The gangly young redhead had a faint frown of worry on his face, hands pushed deep into his jeans pockets, shoulders hunched as he started at the floor, pondering over some problem. And the short, wiry man opposite her - Gemma was shocked as she met the hard black sparkle in the eyes of the associate professor, Dr. Maynard. He sighed deeply, sadly, as she was put down among them, and the others all focussed abruptly on her. Or more specifically, on her neck.

There was a reverberating silence, and Gemma felt a chill spreading throughout the room, as slowly the tension level increased. Her eyes shot across to Mac's, and he smiled a rueful little smile at her, rolling his eyes in reassurance. Gemma relaxed slightly at his air of unconcern.

The woman murmured, a bite of cool amusement in her refined tones, "I believe that you were instrumental in passing the recent amendments to the Human Relations Act, were you not, MacKeld?" An infinitesimal pause. And sarcasm dripped from the smooth tones, "You do happen to recall the current penalty for biting one?"

The muscled platinum-man snorted, a cold gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as he flexed his fingers, cracking the knuckle joints, "The irony - fighting so hard to bring in another law that will demand your own death." His accent was hard to place, clipped consonants and long vowels.

Death?Gemma froze incredulously, eyes leaping back to Mac's, but he was coldly holding the antagonistic glare of the platinum blond guy. There was an unspoken battle going on in this room, she could feel her skin tightening in goosebumps and began to shiver, reacting involuntarily to the aggressive power shimmering through the air.

"For turning or savaging, not biting," corrected the redhead casually, although his frown hadn't lightened, and he was now scowling at Mac.

"And we mustn't jump to conclusions - why would MacKeld do something so irrational?" the man holding her murmured.

"That is his seedscent on her," Platinum Muscles stated baldly, viciously. "The bite has obviously reacted. So he tried to cure her but failed - the risk is still there, increasing, and the wound is days old, not fully healed, so the human may develop into-."

"Not yet," interjected Mac coolly, "But it's already better than yesterday."

Silence reverberated in the wake of his words, and the chill in the room deepened, a strong echo of repugnance and disapproval shimmering around the circle. A blur of movement she couldn't catch, and abruptly Mac was in front of her, Platinum Man glowering aggressively at him from inches in front of his face.

"Why the hell didn't you heal it immediately?" snapped the redhead, clearly frustrated at the stupidity of Mac's behaviour. Gemma wasn't clear whether the 'it' was referring to her or her wound. Wolf manners were really beginning to grate on her nerves. It would help if the feelings bouncing around the room weren't making her skin tingle with tension.

"I couldn't," responded Mac, a faint edge starting to stain his words. "I will explain to the council. If you are going to arrest me, then would you please make sure the human gets back to Macintyre, Johnson. The Grey seems to want her for some reason."

"The Grey? The Grey?" Platinum was spitting rage into Mac's face, "Always your petty, senseless, pack feud - why would The Grey bother with a simple little human, MacKeld?" He gestured wildly over Mac's shoulder, drew himself up and sneered, "There is no reason to it, this is just the MacKeld throwing blame at the Grey as part of the usual bickering between your people."

"I have no idea why Nicolas wants her," replied Mac tautly, his eyes glaring into the glittering black ones facing him. He straightened and seemed to expand in silent power in response to the aggression facing him. "But until she is clear of my shiele she is to some extent my responsib-."

Is that al-?

"Oh come off it, Ulf. She's an analytical chemist." Dr. Maynard's exasperated tones cut across the room, "Metals recovery specialist. You stand there beside that handful of semi-pure Argen and tell me you can see no reason why The Grey would want to collect her?"

His words were like an electric shock through the entire group.

Mac stiffened, shooting the lecturer a look of incredulous, angry frustration, and the tension in the circle around him suddenly pulsed, a rumble of thunder echoing deafeningly around the room as snarls erupted from the throats of all the males. The air shimmered with rage, someone was biting out words of a challenge as the dark-haired wolf holding Gemma pushed her aside and abruptly faced off against Mac with the platinum and the growling redhead. "So you may have your own reasons for turning her also, MacKeld?"

Dr Maynard moved up to stand behind Mac's shoulder, looking troubled, realising belatedly the double edge of his pronouncement. Mac was quivering as he held back his own feelings, glaring at his accusers through a slit in his eyes as he held steady, lip lifting slightly in a quiver as he retorted coldly, "I will answer to the council. Or were you planning to kill me here, untried, Caspar?"

Gemma could feel the leashed power in the frame quivering in front of her, more reverberating off the trio facing him, and had to fight an urge to back away. If this did erupt fully into a fight...

"Caught with Argen and intending to turn a human alchemist- you're already dead, MacKeld," hissed the aggressive platinum blond, shuddering with the desire to rip into his opponent.

"Ulf, -," Dr Maynard began to address Mac, but was drowned out as the redhead snarled in his turn, "What the hell are you up to, Mac?"

"I will answer to the council." Mac's voice was deepening on a growl.

"Why waste their resources in wartime, when you're caught red-handed?" Deep within the platinum one's eyes the eerie, angry glitter was beginning to shine, and his form was shimmering, dark fur starting to erupt along his body. Gemma felt cold beginning to spread out from her stomach.

Mac also began to shimmer involuntarily as he snarled back, "Aster Alpha killing Aster untried? Can you not see any underlying reason why you might all have been lured here tonight, Vanilchov?"

"I can," cut in the sleek female in chill tones, abruptly cooling the fire in the room, "And I think you both forget where you are." The front door beeped open and a horde of people began to prowl in, cautiously taking up vigilant positions all around the room, encircling the antagonists, who carefully, slowly, lowered their hackles, the platinum alpha continuing to glare.

The cool woman's voice continued. "Marsh pack will take care of your human until this is resolved, MacKeld. One way or another." Gemma did not care for the hollow echo in that second phrase, or the way Mac stiffened in front of her, and lifted his head regally to glare broodingly past the woman's shoulder. "But even if it does heal, I will be fascinated to hear you present your feeble defence as to how you come to be running around with illegal weaponry." While she spoke, the elegant, slender woman picked the light grey cord out of Mac's palm and twisted it between her fingers, shivering slightly as she ran a finger along the smooth surface. "I can scent no hint of the Grey anywhere here."

Mac was standing straight, looking past the poised, curvaceous figure out into the darkness through the windows by the doorway. He distained to answer, and the woman's tone took on an additional bite.

"Or does this include your fairy story about his being able to mask his scent? That tale has already been tested, and laughed down several times - as with the kidnap, the holding, the circling. Why do you persist -."

Gemma had had enough of this.

"Some of Nick's - fluid - is on my left knee," she interrupted abruptly.

A jolt ran through Mac and his fingers flexed into claws, but he stilled again, breathing slightly more deeply as he now glared at the floor, a muscle working in his jaw.

The sleek blonde stared haughtily past him at Gemma, who held her unnerving gaze and looked back. Not challenging, just meeting that cold gaze.

"What fluid do you-."

Gemma was damned sure that the woman could guess, that she just wanted Gemma to have to announce it, and she interrupted for a second time, "And his clothing is stuffed in with the rubbish in the common room here -." She gestured with a hand at the door opposite the police-tape cordoned lab entrance.

"We can smell what happened here, human," cold sarcasm dripped through every word, "We don't need your feeble circumstantial ways of figuring out what went on." The woman was now coldly glaring at her, but Gemma refused to back down.

"Then how do you account for my miracle leap from the lab to the trees? Nick picked me up in the lab and dropped me out there -."

"You can't even tell the difference between them, can you, manu?" The disdainful tones cut across hers, "Mackeldcarried you out to the trees."

"The second time," Gemma retorted angrily. She felt a swift shimmer of something in the air around her, something echoing between the four males staring in a circle around her and Mac, and she tensed uneasily at the tingling feeling it evoked, unconsciously leaning closer to the warm back just in front of her.

Then suddenly the door swung open again and a new figure stepped through it, a tall, tired-looking broad-shouldered male in an elegant tuxedo. The power shimmering in the room seemed to thicken, redounding suffocatingly from figure to figure, and Gemma shivered with the burn of it on her skin. The people posted around the room all bowed to the man entering, and the circle of accusers around Mac, together with Mac himself, also all turned and inclined their heads politely to the newcomer. He nodded back, flicking his rich brown hair out of his eyes and sighed, tapping a finger on his thigh.