Chernobyl Werewolf, Team Greywolf Series, Book 2 Read online

  Chernobyl Werewolf

  Book 2 in the Team Greywolf Series

  By

  Eva Gordon

  Chernobyl Werewolf, Team Greywolf, Book 2

  Copyright © 2016 by Eva Gordon.

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from author.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, places and locations portrayed in the story either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design for Chernobyl Werewolf by Sassy Queens of Design

  Editing by Lara Parker

  Discover other titles and series by Eva Gordon at www.ravenauthor.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Chernobyl Werewolf, Team Greywolf, Book 2

  By

  Eva Gordon

  Chapter 1

  Lev parked his rented SUV in front of Dr. Howard Becker’s log cabin in Portland, situated on forest land with a view of Mt. Hood. A property the doctor normally leased out and never lived in. Why the sudden leave of absence? It had been months since anyone had seen Becker, who, as head of luponomics, and lycan surgery, rarely left werewolf territory. Lev’s new boss, head of the LIA and Team Greywolf, Rylee, knew why, but she hadn’t shared. She’d only said his leave was personal and confidential. Selene, his assistant and lover had to know, but she too remained tightlipped.

  Becker’s reason for leaving must have been grave. Whatever the motive, Lev was here to help. He owed him. Becker had become Lev’s savior and friend. The brilliant doctor had not only saved his life, but also made it possible for him to walk again. Dr. Becker’s surgery and use of stem cells repaired his shattered spine. Not only could he run as fast as any alpha werewolf, but Lev returned to his original state of being faster, stronger, better. Lev had been born a mutant werewolf as a result of the 1986 Chernobyl disaster, and his mutations made him physically superior. Werewolves considered him a freak, and referred to him as Chernobyl werewolf. All feared him, with good reason. Rylee called him their weapon of mass destruction. The most dangerous werewolf to ever exist.

  In gratitude, Lev brought Becker a gift he’d picked up in Moscow. He also wanted reassurance he’d not taken ill. Though if he was sick, why had his beta lover Selene not accompanied him? Divorced from his human wife, Becker was estranged from his only child, a daughter who was also a doctor. A daughter he hadn’t seen in years and who vowed she would never ever see him again. Foolish father and foolish daughter. Like Lev, the doctor’s parents had died long ago, and he had no siblings. No family to speak of.

  Lev stepped out of the car and into the moist drizzle. The aroma of rich soil and volatile oils from the trees emanated a healthy smell. Different from his home. The Red Forest of Chernobyl, one of the most radioactive areas in the world. Such a place was not meant for living creatures. He was the exception.

  His smile wavered. He should have at least texted Becker of his visit.

  Lev promised Becker if he walked again, he’d bring him the best Russian vodka money could buy and a special Russian souvenir. Becker said if Lev was ever well enough to visit Moscow to bring him back an authentic samovar. Lev spent good cash on a rare red bronze imperial samovar. If something was wrong, a welcomed surprise might lighten his mood. Certainly, the vodka would. He opened the back of the SUV and took out the samovar packed in the case and then grabbed the bottle.

  As he closed the door, an irresistible aromatic scent embedded with the sweetest blood he’d ever smelled overwhelmed his senses. He inhaled. Intoxicating. The sweet delicate floral scent of snowdrop bulbs as if the flowers emerged from January snow, bringing the bloom of spring into the winter of his cold senses.

  The glorious aroma was human, female, and coming from Dr. Becker’s home. He narrowed his eyes and sniffed for Becker. The doctor’s scent permeated the area, but not currently home. Odd. The female was. Had he broken up with Selene? That would explain his sudden need for isolation. A pissed off jealous she-wolf would drive away even the bravest werewolf. But Becker was human so that might explain suddenly abandoning his critical research. No. Selene would not break lycan law and harm him. She’d get over it or be delivered to the enforcer for discipline.

  A desire to release his wolf and stalk the female overwhelmed him, but nonetheless he remained in control of the bear-sized Chernobyl wolf.

  Lev straightened his black leather jacket and rang the doorbell.

  No one answered. He should return later, after calling Becker. That would be polite, yet his wolf was bewitched. Whoever lay in wait inside the house belonged to him. Lev shook his head. Not possible. He would never take a mate. A lover, perhaps, but nobody long term. Certainly, not a weak human. And not one in a relationship with the doctor who saved his life.

  The woman might not be Becker’s lover, but a patient. As sweet as her blood smelled, the blood had residual corruption as if she’d been poisoned.

  I’m such an idiot. Of course. His daughter. That would explain the blood type so addictive to lycans. Becker had confided his daughter had Stallo’s blood type and like the enforcer’s mate, was human, but with the ability to have lycan children of superior blood. Too bad Becker didn’t want his daughter ever involved with werewolves. He respected their kind, his daughter should live in human society to practice medicine, marry and someday start a family. Lev understood. Life amongst lycans was a cultural hardship for humans. Strict pack status rules placed humans below omegas. Pets. Because Dr. Becker had saved many werewolves during combat and contributed so much to werewolf genetics research, he’d been given beta status.

  The soft shuffle of feet reached the entrance. The female.

  He swore and turned to leave when the door opened.

  “Can I help you?”

  Lev turned and gaped. The woman, in her twenties, dressed in a light wool robe over baggy pajamas looked up at him with enchanting amber eyes that matched her golden blonde curls, messily tied in a ponytail. Much too thin. Despite her disheveled look, perhaps after a debilitating illness, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Krasivaya, dusha-devitsa. He whispered the translation. “Beautiful, pretty maiden.”

  She met his eyes and gazed. Entranced. Not moving, not speaking, not reacting. As if she was a mesmerist’s victim, she waited for his next command.

  Such beautiful eyes. The color of expensive Baltic amber. Lev could drown i
n them and die happy.

  She tilted her head, exposing her carotid artery. Teasing his wolf to sink his fangs into her soft throat. The pretty maiden desired him.

  Lev shook his head. What was he thinking? He’d unknowingly rendered her mute with his alpha magnetism. All werewolves had some mind control over humans, but his ability was superior to even the most gifted alpha werewolves. He’d promised Team Greywolf he’d never mesmerize humans, unless necessary and then only in a life and death situation. And never to submit to his sexual desires.

  Lev released her mind and snapped his fingers to distract her momentarily from meeting his gaze.

  She pressed her hand against her forehead and shook her head. “I’m sorry I just zoned out.” Even her voice played like music to his ears. Her accent was from the West Coast of America.

  “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I expected Dr. Howard Becker.”

  “And you are?”

  “Lev Volkov, a former patient.”

  “Really? Howard said he no longer practiced medicine. Not since working for some research center.”

  She didn’t call him father. Odd, she smelled related to him. “Ah, he’s a friend or uncle then?”

  “Howard, no, he’s my biological father.”

  His body tensed. Lev still mourned his beloved father and couldn’t imagine such a lack of respect. Only in America did one call one’s parent by their name. Then again, he was told she’d been raised by her mom and stepfather. Why should he rationalize her insolence?

  Damn. Something about her kept Lev enthralled. Her blood of course. He needed to get the hell out of here, before his wolf took the maiden for his. “His daughter…”

  “Rachel.” She tightened her robe as if suddenly embarrassed about her comfortable sloppiness. How easy it would be for him to shred her robe and take in her nakedness.

  “I brought him a gift from Russia.” He picked up the box and handed her the bottle of vodka.

  “Thank you.” Rachel took it, but narrowed a glance at the box. “Open it before I let you bring it inside.”

  Good for her, a suspicious woman. “Certainly.” He slowly knelt as if she had a gun pointed at him and opened the crate. Not that shooting him would hurt. Normal bullets wouldn’t kill him. He unwrapped the samovar and lifted it as he stood, allowing her a close inspection.

  Her eyes brightened. “Beautiful, my grandmother had a samovar, but nothing like this. Please, bring it in.”

  His wolf stirred, but he collared the beast back to the den. His reaction was only biological, because of her blood, nothing more. He should leave before he betrayed the man who saved his life by doing things to his daughter no father would approve of. He scanned the living room cluttered with books. “I’ll put the samovar by the fireplace.”

  Still clutching the bottle of vodka, she nodded. “That’ll work.”

  Lev set it down. “I must go now.”

  “I’m sure Howard will want to see you. Does he have your number?”

  “Yes, don’t worry. I’ll contact him.”

  “He went to the hardware store. I’m sure he’ll be back in thirty minutes or less if you want to wait. There is fresh brewed coffee or if you prefer tea.” She held onto the counter as if dizzy.

  My alpha aura? No, you egotistical bastard, she’s recovering from an illness. Now close to her, he understood. Rachel’s immune system was weak as if it had just battled a fierce illness.

  One more minute with her and he’d have no control over his moonstruck and now concerned wolf, who wished to cuddle her next to his warmth. If he bit her, she’d benefit from the special healing properties of his werewolf saliva. Compared to other alpha werewolves, Becker discovered his saliva was exceptional in destroying dangerous microbes. Fool! “No. Thank you. I must go.”

  Rachel’s eyes lit up as if she figured out he wanted to hold her in his arms until she healed and then ravish her once her health restored. “I’m no longer contagious. That is, if Howard told you.”

  Huh? He wished he could tell her werewolves didn’t get human diseases with the exception of rabies, which killed them quickly. “No worries. Rest.”

  “Will do. Howard will kill me if he knew I came down to answer the door.”

  “Goodbye, Rachel.” He turned to tear himself from the beguiling attractive woman, and let himself out. Later, he’d call and invite Becker to a nice restaurant. If the good doctor ever called him back.

  As he closed the door, he heard the crash of the expensive bottle of vodka shattering on the floor.

  “Rachel!”

  Rachel lay on the soft leather sofa with a blanket over her and blinked. She stared at the mysterious exceptionally handsome hunk of a man who had come to see Howard. The towering dark-haired muscular Russian sat on the floor next to her. His massive hand held hers as if she were a sleeping princess and he the prince. Her heart pinged in pleasure. Traitor. She jerked her hand away and tried to sit. “What the hell?”

  He gently pushed her back. “You fainted.”

  Suddenly, she remembered everything. His unusual gift for her father and—the shattered glass. “Oh shit, I broke the bottle.”

  “No worries. I’ll clean the mess.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for it.”

  “Nonsense. You are sick. I should have not disturbed you.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “Not long, less than five minutes. Shall I bring you water?”

  Rachel nodded. He had to be the most striking man she’d ever met. A handsome face, not a pretty boy without stubble, but the rugged façade of a warrior bent on conquering. The hot Russian had slicked back thick raven hair which enhanced his blue eyes, reminding her of the color of polar ice water. His rich deep Russian accent made her swoon, compelling her to tell him to stay and keep her company. In her travels, she’d met quite a few Russian medical staff, but none as delicious. If the Soviet Union still existed, she’d peg him as a KGB agent. A Russian James Bond who could seduce women and even men into revealing state secrets. At well over six foot five or six inches with broad shoulders, a man’s man, and a woman’s ideal caveman, he exuded raw testosterone.

  A man who could go from gentleman to feral in a heartbeat. A predator. One who could bring down not just one mammoth, but the entire freakin’ herd. Yet, he obviously had vulnerabilities since her father had saved him. Howard travelled quite a bit, so he probably worked on him in Russia. Or had he? Howard had always been away from her and her mother. A workaholic father who missed her piano recitals, science fairs and so much more. What if he’d been a spy and stayed away to keep her safe? One of her childhood fantasies about why he abandoned her. Maybe this mysterious man was his colleague.

  He returned with a glass of water for her. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll leave now, but first call your father so he knows to come home.”

  She drank half the glass. “No. I’m fine. I just won’t move until he returns.”

  “Then I’ll wait.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Being in the company of a lovely lady is not something I question.”

  Swooning again. Damn, he’s just being polite. “Never mind. Howard must not have told you about me, but then again, he went to great efforts to keep my name out of the news.” Good old dad must have strong government connections. Only the CIA could cover up what happened.

  “No, we haven’t spoken in months. I’ve been in Moscow for two weeks selling my penthouse. I’m moving to United States and wanted to make sure all was well with him.”

  Penthouse. He must be one of those filthy rich Russian tycoons. The kind that bought real estate in Manhattan and London. No matter how rich, why would he want to leave Mother Russia? Maybe he fell in love with an American woman or had a business here. For some stupid reason, the idea he had a girlfriend or a wife bothered her. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, but some men never did or took it off when away from home. “For work or love?”

  “Work.” He cocked his h
ead. “Why would you have been on the news?”

  His penetrating glance compelled her to open like a book and tell him everything, even after everyone had been sworn to secrecy about her case. “I’m a physician, and I work for Doctors without Borders. I was infected with Ebola in West Africa.”

  His brows furrowed in concern. “The outbreak in Liberia?”

  “Actually, I worked there, but that’s not where I contracted it. I flew to Nigeria with a team to help a small village battling Ebola. After three weeks, we pretty much had it contained. Who knew we would be in even greater danger? The Boko Haram came looking for young girls. They held the village hostage, murdered dozens, including some of our doctors and took our protective gear. They drove off with me and five preteen girls. I told them the girls had all been exposed and two began showing symptoms.” She snorted. “Thanks to some clean blood serum I had in my kit.”

  “You made it look like they had Ebola?” His smile broadened as if pleased with her deception in fooling the terrorists.

  “Yep. The girls might have been exposed, but we quarantined the symptomatic ones from the rest. We prevented the children from getting Ebola. I figured if I made them look sick, I could save their lives from a horrible fate. The Boko Haram militants got scared, especially when I started shivering from fever. Not faked. Apparently, I had contracted it earlier. They left us in the middle of nowhere to die. The girls wanted to help me, but I told them to stay away. They did. The army came in and found us. Fortunately, the girls remained free of Ebola. I was flown to Bethesda, Maryland and kept in their containment center. I almost died. Once I was no longer contagious, Howard had a rich buddy of his fly me back to Portland on a private plane until I could get back on my feet.”

  “That explains Dr. Becker’s absence,” he muttered.

  “I didn’t know it at the time, but he’d actually flown to Africa after our rescue. The man who disappeared from my life after the divorce stayed at my side the entire time.”