The Wanting (D'Shar Men 1)

Mindful of the fact that he was yards away, she undid the other wrist with nimble fingers and slid from the metal table. Her heart pounded against her chest as she stumbled through the room, hand against the wall as she sought a light switch or a door handle.

The sound of something shuffling across the room hastened her exploration. Her booted foot brushed against something soft and meaty, but she ignored it and continued forward. A flicker of blue light behind her revealed a metallic glimmer of what she thought was a door. She sprinted toward what she prayed was an exit, and her shin slammed into the bottom of a stairwell? When her fingers felt the smooth cylinders of handrails, her previous thoughts were confirmed. This was a way out! Zasha pounded up the creaky steps using the rails on either side for balance. Her shaky hands found the smooth wood of the door when she reached the last step and almost slammed face first into the door.

She turned the knob and the door swung open to a dilapidated interior of a home that had seen better days. Moonlight seeped in through cracks and holes in the dingy walls. A glance to her left revealed the exit to freedom. A faded red door stood less than twenty yards away.

Four long strides carried her out of the house and into the white flakes that melted on her skin.

The neighborhood wasn’t one she recognized, but the row of condemned buildings that surrounded her offered up no safety. So she trudged farther into the night. Each determined step taking her away from the mad scientist who claimed to be her father.

****

Phelan knocked on the door and frowned when is swung open beneath his fist. Zasha would never be so careless. His stomach clenched as he entered the house and saw signs of a struggle. The ozone in the air made his hair stand on end. She had fired her weapon earlier or an alien had issued a blast, possibly both. Both scenarios made him clench his teeth. Who would be crazy enough to come after a P.I.U. agent in their home? He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and placed a call to Zasha. When the call went to voicemail after three rings, he swore. He could call the chief, but he knew the rules. It took forty-eight hours to be declared a missing person. Even for one of their own. Besides, this was personal. Out of options, he placed a call to his brother.

“Aren’t you on a date?” Bastian asked.

“I just got here and the door was open, and Zasha is nowhere to be found. Her car was in her parking space, and she hasn’t answered her phone.”

“Let me get Kade,” he said as he placed the phone down on the desk and yelled for the computer whiz.

“Did her phone actually ring or just go to voicemail?” Kade asked a few moments later.

“It rang.”

“I have my system booted up now, give me her number, and we’ll see what we can find.”

The clicks of Kade’s fingers on the keyboard were too loud in the silence that followed. If there was a trail to be found, Kade would locate it. Seconds ticked by like minutes, and what felt like an eternity later Kade spoke.

“I have a location.”

“Af

ter you read me the coordinates, I want you to gather our security team and meet me a few blocks down.”

“Bastian is gathering our best as we speak.”

“Good, be sure to let the men know it’s their Queen we’re fighting for.”

His demeanor change as he disconnected and spun on his heel to head to the car. If you her nerve to put your hands on his mate you’d better be prepared for war. Cause the D’Shar family was about to bring the pain.

****

He ignored the speed limit as he steered his black steed through the streets painted white. The address was a rundown neighborhood full of abandoned buildings and crack houses. Phelan tried not to think the worst, but his mind dreamed up one scenario after another; each darker than the one previous. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the wheel and eased on the brake to make a sharp turn. The yellow headlights caught a familiar silhouette off to the side, and the wheel jerked to the right as he hit the brake and moved the gear shift into park. He exited the car in time to catch the sodden bundle of his mate.

“Zasha, are you okay?” he asked. His arms wrapped around her as she trembled. Her teeth clacked together as she nodded.

“Let’s get you inside,” he said. Phelan placed her inside the car and cranked the heat full blast before he called Bastian.

“I have Zasha, hold on my signal to go inside. Our ETA is five mikes out.”

“Roger.”

“I have my men outside the area they traced your cell phone to, what happened?” he asked after he disconnected and shifted the car into drive as he pulled back onto the road.

The blue tinge of her lips had faded, and her shivers ceased, but the arms that hugged her waist made him think she might have bruised ribs.

“Tavel happened,” she said. The words spat from her mouth like something spoiled. Her face twisted into a sneer that told him there was history. The name soured his stomach, and he had to force the next question out around bile.

“Tavel from Tagget?”