Enjoy this Excerpt from
Coyote Whispers
Coyote Hunger book 3
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Chapter 1
May Eighteenth
Steve sat enclosed by darkness and listened to the sounds of the forest as it settled into the coming night. The sun had gone down hours ago thanks to the mountains he called home, but true sunset still had a few minutes. He’d lived in Whispering Springs or the surrounding mountain range his whole life. Never once had he felt the urge to leave it behind and explore the world. He took the occasional trip down the mountainside to visit one of the big cities, but there was no appeal in staying away longer than a day or two, a week at most.
He breathed deep, pulling the chilled, late-spring air into his lungs, the accompanying sting of cold meeting warm, a welcome twinge. His house had been finished for two months, but he hadn’t moved everything in until this past weekend. A grin curled his lips as he thought about why it had taken so long. Having his two best friends somewhat occupied with Rowan’s return had slowed down both the finishing of the house and the moving in. Not that he’d complain. Steve was more than happy Rowan had finally come home and even happier to see her reunited with her mate, Quinn.
The night around him grew still, quiet in a way that pricked his instincts, caused his hair to stand on end, and drew his coyote’s attention. Steve slowly sat forward, leaned over to put his beer bottle on the deck beside his chair, before closing his eyes and honing his senses to listen—to smell. The crush of undergrowth beneath running feet hit him first, followed by a body-slamming gust of fear. He scented two shifters but he couldn’t place them. Tried harder to separate them and connect either essence to the memory of its owner.
A howl of agony echoed up the ridge, sliced into his gut and pulled his coyote out with amazing speed. On his feet, Steve was glad he’d forgone shirt and shoes after his shower as he removed his sweats. Free of the restrictive garment, he shifted as he leapt over the deck railing to the ground one story below. He landed with a jolt to every bone but ignored it as he ran through the forest in the direction of the horrific screams of distress.
As he drew closer he could hear the struggles, smell the fear—the blood. The enjoyment. The attacker, in coyote form if he wasn’t mistaken, was thrilled with his catch. A catch Steve had every intention of setting free. His muscles shuddered and it wasn’t just from the exertion of running all out. He thought about stealth but a bloodcurdling cry and bark of triumph changed his mind. Low branches and shrubs slapped into him, tangled with his fur, as he powered his bulk toward the fight up ahead he glimpsed through the trees.
The other animal’s head whipped up, yellow eyes and white teeth glowed in the dusk as he turned in Steve’s direction. A frustrated howl rent the air as the coyote turned from his prey and bolted in the opposite direction. Torn between going after the retreating coyote and tending to the victim, Steve hesitated enough to have the decision made for him. Whoever the coyote was, he had too much head start and the metallic stench of blood told Steve his first concern should be the wounded human crumpled on the ground.
Ripped, blood-splattered clothes covered the too-still body, but there was no mistaking the feminine shape or perfume. He reached her side and shifted back to human form. Uncaring of his naked state, he knelt beside her head and felt for a pulse. The steady beat reassured him but how long would it stay that way? The overpowering aroma of spilled blood masked her scent, but he knew she was one of the pack, her scent was familiar. Too familiar.
No!
His fingers trembled as he brushed away hair to reveal the face he saw in his dreams and Steve’s heart stopped.
“Doc?” The hoarse whisper ached in his throat.
His heart kicked back in with a thud. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and the urge to cradle her in his arms took hold but Steve knew he couldn’t. Not yet. He had to check her injuries, stop the bleeding if he could. He ran his hands down her limbs to check for broken bones. In his limited knowledge he held back a howl of frustration. She was the one who should be doing this. She was the doctor. The person who stitched the cuts, set the broken bones and soothed the bruises.
Hands and fingers sticky with blood, Steve rolled her to her back and breathed a sigh of relief when she moaned.
“Doc? Can you hear me?”
She shuddered under his touch but didn’t answer as he tried to find where she bled from the most. Her jeans and shirt were wet with blood but he couldn’t find anything too deep or gushing enough to take the time to stop the flow. He needed to get her to the house. There he could remove what was left of her clothes and see how bad the damage was under light. He could also clean her up and decide if she required medical attention better than he could give.
They were about three hundred feet below his house but with the slope and thick vegetation, that distance may as well be three miles. It would take him longer to get up the hill than it had coming down with the burden of carrying Doc, and Steve knew every second counted. He tried to be as gentle as possible, but she whimpered when he worked his arms under her and pulled her against his naked chest.
In all the fantasies he’d had of Doc cradled against his naked body, this wasn’t one of them. The woman set his blood on fire but carrying her now froze that same blood in his veins. Knowing someone had set out to hurt her—had hurt her—made Steve’s coyote want to hunt down her attacker and do some hurting of his own. He turned and headed for home, careful not to let any branches scrape against her battered body. By the time he reached halfway, shivers raked her from head to toe and he knew shock had set in.
He lengthened his stride. The urgency to get her home giving him the strength to move over the ground quickly. When the large, dark shadow of his house came into view he breathed a sigh of relief and went toward the basement door. Once inside, Steve did something he’d never done before. He closed the solid timber panel and threw the deadbolt home.