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“I can’t believe I wrote out the kill permit,” I berated myself, wiping dust out of my eyes as Joe’s pickup disappeared down the driveway with five rather than six dead goats in the back. The rancher had accepted Chase’s money, but that financial buffer clearly wasn’t sufficient to prevent him from demanding legal paperwork then heading to Roman’s to begin a wolf hunt. 257’s future was looking less and less bright.
“Irrelevant,” the nameless shifter answered, the cock of his head suggesting he meant the single word to be soothing rather than as abrasive as it initially came across. Like most of the guy’s attempts at appearing human, though, the effort didn’t really work.
“This is Wolf Young,” Chase interjected, the human-style introduction sitting strangely upon a werewolf who looked one hunger pang away from gnawing on the dead goat still draped across his shoulders. I tried to offer up a smile of greeting, but was pretty sure the effort just made me look like I’d swallowed a bug.
“Wolfie to my friends,” the latter corrected. He eyed me consideringly, shrugged, then started back toward their vehicle without another word. It was a rental, pristine and perfect. And even though I’m not a car aficionado, I winced as the seeping wether landed on the plush back seat.
The exchange had left me vaguely nauseated, and at the same time uncertain whether I was meant to call Chase’s friend “Wolfie” or “Wolf.” Which, I guessed, was irrelevant. Because if I wasn’t much mistaken, my favorite wolf’s lair was located in the exact same direction that Joe’s pickup had headed toward....
“Hey, where are you going?” Chase’s hand landed on my forearm as I turned toward my vehicle, the warm weight sliding back off one second later as if he’d reminded himself that humans don’t grab onto each other the way werewolves might. The contact, though fleeting, woke something deep inside me. Filled my nostrils with the ozone-rich remembrance of a dark alley and an event that had left me wanting to leap and sing.
It’s just physical attraction, I berated myself, pushing past Chase as I headed toward my own vehicle. The GPS I’d tossed amidst a pile of other gear in the back seat would determine whether my guessed geography was accurate. Ah, here we go.
I pulled up the map of the area, noted once again how close 257’s lair was to the spot in which I was currently located. Roman’s house stood even closer, though. And, when I toggled on the property-boundary layer, I wished my memory hadn’t been so correct.
Because the pups I’d observed yesterday were located on state land, of course—I wouldn’t have trespassed while on duty. But Roman’s property line lay no more than fifty feet distant. And what werewolf wouldn’t be aware of other predators denning so close to his home turf?
***
“TURN HERE,” I TOLD Chase as we approached the locked access road that promised to bring us closer to 257’s lair than Joe and Roman could drive. It hadn’t seemed worth arguing about whose car we were taking earlier, especially when being a passenger meant I could send my boss a quick text message that might eventually cover my butt. Now, though, I second-guessed a ride in the convertible as Chase turned so abruptly the dead goat behind me slid over into Wolf’s—Wolfie’s?—lap with a solid thunk.
My eyes met his in the rear-view mirror, the werewolf’s mouth widening slightly as blood dribbled down his chin. Had he been snacking while we were riding? Would we disembark and find goat blood soaking his clothes and arms?
Suddenly, the inside of the car felt infinitely confining, my door flying open before Chase had pulled to a complete stop. Fingers fumbled with the heavy key ring as they searched for the right sliver of metal. And once the lock clicked open and the gate arm swung sideways, it was all I could do to force my feet to carry me back to the car and belt myself in.
“Straight?” Chased asked as I worked on slowing my breathing. If werewolves could sense distress the way wild animals could, I didn’t want to feed the blood lust of the shifter in the back seat.
“Yes, straight,” I told him, trying not to wish I’d run for my life while I had the opportunity. But Chase was a good driver, I could say that much about him. Despite the low undercarriage of the convertible, we only scraped bottom once as he dodged potholes and zipped down a road that was really not suitable for two-wheel-drive vehicles. I could feel us gaining on Roman with every mile that passed....
Then we were parking, disembarking, the deer trail I often followed beckoning me into the leafless trees. “Do you need help carrying that?” Chased asked, and I turned in confusion. I wasn’t carrying anything other than a fanny pack of trail essentials and the burning desire to find 257 before the rancher could.
“Nope. Got it,” Wolf growled, wrapping a furless body up inside the goat’s severed skin. The shifter had been prepping meat while we drove down the highway, apparently. Must have ripped through the tough hide with his teeth...which would explain the blood smeared around his fingers and mouth.
A werewolf’s culinary habits, however, were currently irrelevant. Instead, I barely noticed Wolf flinging the corpse across one shoulder before I was running, following a path that I knew like the back of my hand. At this time of day, 257’s whole family would likely be back at the den site. They would have gorged on whatever meal the father provided, which meant the afternoon was devoted to digestion and a nap.
I was out of breath by the time the trail split in two a hundred feet from my destination. Still, I did my best to keep quiet as I picked my way along a nearly invisible track to angle closer to the wolves’ lair. The animals would know I was nearby, but hopefully they’d remember my scent and relax back into dreamland. Best they stayed in their den so I could guard them all at once....
I’d achieved my usual spot on the overlook, blood pounding in my ears and sweat stinging my eyes, when I saw the first figure burst out of the tree line. It wasn’t Roman or Joe—for that much I was grateful. But when Wolf dropped his burden and lunged at the pile of napping puppies, I stopped being able to breathe.